


overture for two (me & you)

by oh_fudgecakes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (gentle face-fucking), (its not as filthy as it sounds), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Commentator! AU basically, Face-Fucking, M/M, Social Media, Tabloids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-11 11:09:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13522995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_fudgecakes/pseuds/oh_fudgecakes
Summary: Plagued by his poor performance at the GPF, Yuuri’s disastrous free at Japanese Nationals ends not just in eleventh-place, but deals him with a lasting injury, resulting in him retiring before the events of the show. He becomes a commentator, determined to move on from his uneventful skating career. Yet, a series of chance meetings with a smitten Viktor and his own yearning for the ice keeps drawing him back to competitive figure skating.In which everything's different, but it all ends the same anyway.





	1. allemande

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first bang, and I want to dedicate this to a few people who've made the experience such an enjoyable one. Firstly, I want to dedicate this to Zoe ([PrincessZoe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessZoe/pseuds/PrincessZoe)) and Mer ([Mereth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mereth/pseuds/Mereth)) who so kindly betaed my fic and left lots of screaming comments that made my day. Secondly, I want to dedicate this to my awesome friends on the BBOI discord ( _you know who you are_ ) who blobbed around with me as we collectively melted from writing too much. You guys have really made my fandom experience an unparalleled one. I also really need to thank my amazing artists, who came in as pinch-hitters literally two days before I was scheduled to post, and still managed to churn out two amazing pieces of work in time for posting. A huge thank you to rikichie and NothingTea. 
> 
> And lastly, but very importantly, this fic was really inspired by Yulia Lipnitskaya, whose career I've been following since Sochi. She's my fave, an amazing skater, and deserved so much better. I had a small Kubo moment when she announced that she would be retiring to become a commentator, so that's really how this whole fic came about.
> 
> Art was done by:  
> [rikichie](https://rikichie.tumblr.com/), art [here](https://rikichie.tumblr.com/post/170680528587/this-is-my-first-piece-for-the-bigbangonice-for)  
> [NothingTea](http://nothingtea.tumblr.com/), art [here](http://nothingtea.tumblr.com/post/170680174348/he-may-have-finished-eleventh-the-commentator)  
> Thank you everyone for the amazing experience!

“And that’s the double axel, triple toe combination in slow-motion,” Yuuri narrates dutifully, “Not an easy combination jump, but Minami nailed it with a flourish.”

“Minami-kun can be inconsistent with his jumps at times,” Morooka adds on, “But when he’s got it, he’s definitely got it.”

“He _is_ a little inconsistent,” Yuuri agrees, “Oh, and there’s the replay of the flubbed triple toe. I thought it was strange when he fell, because he really seemed to have his triple toe down in the combination — and especially because he clearly has his quad toe down.”

“Inconsistency,” Morooka sighs, exasperated, but clearly a little fond.

Yuuri nods in agreement even though he knows that no one will see him. The only people around him now are Morooka and the rest of the people here in the recording studio. He's still not quite used to being recorded like this. On the screen in front of them, a slow motion replay of Minami’s step sequence begins.

“His sense of rhythm, on the other hand,” Yuuri starts.

“Now _that_ is what he’s always been known for,” Morooka agrees brightly, “That, and his stage presence. He really knows how to fire up a crowd.”

“He’s definitely got potential,” Yuuri continues, “But that inconsistency of his....”

The camera cuts to a close-up of Minami, sitting in the kiss-and-cry with his coach and choreographer, beaming radiantly. He’s carrying an especially large plushie.

 _It reminds me of the skater I used to be,_ is what Yuuri doesn’t say.

“And the scores are out!” Morooka hollers, “One hundred fifty-five points! That’s a personal best for Minami Kenjirou-kun!”

Morooka is a lot more familiar with the other Japanese skaters than Yuuri is. He has no idea what any of their personal bests are, but with a score of one hundred and fifty-five, this boy is long way off being internationally competitive. He can’t help feeling a little morose on the boy’s behalf, but Minami looks pretty happy with himself, so maybe he’s projecting a little.

Morooka elbows him, and he realizes that he’d been silent for quite awhile.

He clears his throat.

“And up next,” he announces, peeking down at the papers in front of him, _“Oh!_ Phichit Chulanont! Phichit is the only Thai skater to consistently make the Grand Prix Series. In fact, he’s the only South-East Asian skater to consistently make the Grand Prix Series. Hard-working, meticulous, and very talented, he currently trains in Detroit under Ciao— Cialdini Celestino. He’s really a sight to behold on the ice. Personally, I think he’s going to change the game for Southeast Asian skaters here on out.”

He stops there. Had that been too enthusiastic?  Had he been rambling? Was it unprofessional to show such blatant favouritism as a commenter?

But Morooka is grinning beside him, so he supposes it’s okay.

Phichit skates out into the center of the rink, arms up, and assumes his starting position. The music begins.

“Straight into the combination spin,” Morooka narrates, “Excellent speed. Beautiful positioning.”

“Phichit only has one quad,” Yuuri says, “But he makes up for it with beautiful spins, excellent triples, and an amazing stage presence. I’ve always loved watching his skates. His charisma on the ice is really something else.”

“Triple axel, triple toe!” Morooka exclaims, “And what an excellent axel that was! Very tight, and very clean.”

“He was struggling with his axels earlier this season,” Yuuri chimes in, “It’s nice to see that he finally has them down.”

A sudden flash of an old memory — the sky turned dark outside the windows, and the rink empty, skating compulsory figures and helping each other count rotations late into the night. Something clenches unexpectedly inside him. His hand flies to his chest.

“Quad toe, and he nailed it!” Morooka cries.

Ah, and now he’s missed Phichit’s quad toe.

He shakes his head, as if that will clear his thoughts, and then returns his attention to the screen in front of him. Phichit is readying himself for another jump.

“Triple lutz, triple toe, double toe,” he narrates, “He’s changed up his jump combinations since earlier this season for higher points! He’s even put his quad toe in the second half to rack up the bonus."

“Look at his score going up in the corner.”

“I think he’s actually going to win this!” Yuuri says, excited, “He’s drawing into his closing spin right now. We’ll know his score in a couple moments.”

“I can’t wait!” Morooka laughs.

 

 

 

Yuuri video calls Phichit the moment he gets home from the recording studio.

“Hey, Mr. Four Continents Champion!” Yuuri greets excitedly. Phichit’s face is flushed and sweaty and small on his phone, and he’s still got the remaining glimmers of makeup over his cheekbones and eyelids, but he looks _ecstatic._

 _“Yuuri!”_ he squeals, “You watched my performance?”

“I didn’t just watch it. I did the commentary for it too,” Yuuri replies, chuckling.

“Oh my god, that’s so exciting!” Phichit exclaims, “I wanna hear your commentary!”

He’s clearly still high on adrenaline. Yuuri can’t help but laugh fondly.

They talk for an hour or two, until they are both wrung out and sleepy from the day they’ve both had. Finally exhausted, they say their goodbyes and hang up.

It’s then, lying alone in bed and staring at the ceiling, that a familiar restlessness creeps slowly but surely upon him again. It haunts him in every quiet moment, chases him like a shadow dogging his heels. When he closes his eyes, he just sees the after-image of movement against the back of his lids, just hears the after-echoes of blades scratching against the ice, the crunch of a landed jump. He turns over and tries to sleep, but the music wells up from within his bones, bidding him to move, and—

He opens his eyes and sits up.

The elderly owner of the rink near his apartment beams when he arrives, even though it’s right before closing time. She always seems happy to see him.

“You’re here to skate?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says, and bows low, “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

She waves him off, laughing.

“Go right ahead,” she says, “You want to skate alone for awhile right? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get your alone-time on the ice.”

Yuuri bows again.

“Thank you so much.”

He still doesn’t really know what he’s done to deserve her kindness, or why she’s decided to do this for him. He appreciates it more than he can say.

He pulls on his skates and glides slowly to the center of the rink. As he closes his eyes, breathing in deep, the sensation returns to him again — music, welling up uncontrollably within him. There’s a song in him that hasn’t ended, and it compels him relentlessly to skate. Sometimes he can’t sleep until he’s had a go at the ice. The movements sing on and on through his limbs, itching beneath his skin until he finally, unfailingly, has to release it.

As the music begins to play inside of him, his legs move in time, and he tilts his head up, slow, before drawing his hands down the sides of his neck.

The movements after that come easily to him.

 

 

 

“You know” the owner calls to him, as he steps off the rink sometime later, “There are many who would love to see you compete again. You could come back if you wanted.”

He sits in the stands and eases his skate carefully off with a wince.

“My ankle says otherwise,” he says, with a chuckle, and rubs at the spot where it hurts most.

“What happened to it?” she asks, hobbling slowly closer.

Yuuri shrugs.

“The doctor couldn't tell me what was wrong with it, even after doing all those scans,” he admits, “The pain comes and goes.”

She crouches beside him and carefully massages his ankle. Yuuri smiles at her gratefully.

“I probably wouldn't win anything either way,” he tells her sadly, ashamed.

But she just shakes her head.

“Silly boy,” she says gently, and laughs, “The people who love you — they won't stop loving you just because you haven't won anything, you know?”

 

 

 

He checks his his phone as he's leaving the rink, and notices that he has a missed call. Someone has left a voicemail for him.

 _‘Good news, Katsuki-kun!’_ It’s Morooka’s voice, strange and tinny over the phone speakers. _‘The higher-ups really liked your commentary for the Four Continents. They also said it brought in a lot of viewers. You've been assigned to be on ground at Worlds!”_

Yuuri yelps, and almost drops his phone in sheer surprise. He fumbles it quickly back to his ear.

 _‘Usually they don't assign anyone so new to be on ground at a big event like Worlds.”_ Yeah, Yuuri had figured so. _‘But we've had a good response from viewers, and I pushed hard for you to come with me. So please, do your best, Katsuki-kun!’_

A beep.

The message ends.

Yuuri immediately puts his face in his hands, unable to contain his excitement otherwise. He'd been resigned to being unable to attend Worlds for the first time since he hit seniors. Now, he has the chance to attend Worlds, while on payroll! He's looking forward to all the performances already. Most of all, he'll even be able to watch Viktor compete live again.

At that last thought, melancholy comes unexpectedly over him.

 _This time I’ll be watching Viktor from off the ice,_ he can't help but think, and the thought surprises him. Does he really still want to compete with Viktor?

A memory comes back to him then, quick but vivid — pain, an all-consuming panic, and the crowd watching on from every direction as he struggles and fails to push himself to his feet on the ice.

Unexpectedly, his right knee buckles at a sharp pain from his ankle. He lets out a cry, but it subsides quickly as it had come. He has to stop and sit at a nearby park bench as his ankle begins to throb faintly. It's not the same acute pain as before but it still hurts. Carefully, he eases his shoe off and rubs slowly at the joint. He’d probably over-exerted it while skating today. When he gets home, he’ll need to ice it.

And that's another reason why he’s no longer competing, he reminds himself. It's just a bad idea with his ankle the way it is.

As the throbbing subsides enough for him to walk again, he gets up and continues heading in the direction of the apartment he's renting out until recording is done and he can leave Tokyo. He's glad that he gets to be at Worlds, especially now that he can watch all the performances without the stress of competing. He'd been so worked up at the Grand Prix Final that he hadn't even had the chance to properly watch Viktor live. That had been a waste.

Oh. He should probably find a small gift for Morooka to show his appreciation. It's definitely not the first time Morooka has stuck his neck out for Yuuri.

Yuuri smiles at the thought.

He'd been so depressed after the Japanese Nationals. He’d been in so much pain, and he'd scored so poorly that it had taken him out of the running for the rest of the season. He'd broken things off with Celestino then, finished up his mass communications degree, and returned home in disgrace. All he'd wanted back then was to be left alone to cry under his covers— until he'd gotten that call.

Morooka had apparently done some intensive investigative journalism after he’d fallen off the grid, and eventually hunted down the _onsen_ ’s number from Yuuri’s answers to the press about his family over the years. He'd started the call off demanding to know if Yuuri was retiring, whether it was true he’d left Celestino, and _Katsuki-kun! I’m asking what your plans are for your comeback! This isn’t the end for you!_ Ironically, once Yuuri had told him he was retiring due to injury, he’d ended up inviting Yuuri to commentate with him.

Yuuri had turned the offer down at first. He’d been too depressed then to think about doing anything else. He just hadn't been ready to move on. Eventually though, after a couple of weeks, he’d slowly considered the idea in the solitude of his childhood bedroom, had gradually gotten bored of doing nothing and feeling depressed, and finally called Morooka back.

Morooka had stuck his neck out back then to get Yuuri on board too.

Yuuri snaps out of his retrospection as he finds himself at the foot of his apartment building, and steps gratefully into the lift lobby, breathing a little sigh of relief from being out of the February cold.

The first thing he can do to repay Morooka for his kindness, Yuuri reflects, as he pulls his scarf down from his face and presses the up button for the lift, is to work hard and do as good a job as possible. The doors to the lift open and he steps in. If he does poorly, it will make Morooka’s recommendation of him look bad.

As the lift doors close behind him, Yuuri resolves to read up a little on the skaters who’ve made the Worlds this year.

 

 

 

[A video of the footage from the Four Continents Championship. In the background, Morooka and Yuuri offer commentary on the skaters.]

 **4CC Men’s Skating w/ commentary by Katsuki Yuuri [FULL]  
** 1,138,093 views

226 Comments

 **littlekatsudon  
** OMGGGGG yuuri-kun has such a sweet voice!!! 10/10 would listen to again!

 **Phicutie169  
** I really enjoyed his commentary on Phichit. You can really tell how fond he is of him.

 **ohyuurimyyuuri  
** ahhhh i’m still not over yuuri retiring tbh *cries* he’s always had the potential to make it big it doesn’t seem real that he’s retired before he could win even one gold

> Hide replies... 
> 
> **GoldSkateFan  
>  ** Are you honestly saying that you thought Katsuki could beat Viktor?
> 
> **littlekatsudon  
>  ** he has ten times the musicality viktor has. viktor is a jumping machine, nothing more.
> 
> **ohyuurimyyuuri  
>  ** okay let’s not fight by bringing other skaters down. viktor is a great skater, but i’ve always personally preferred yuuri’s skating style. he’s massively underscored by the current points system. it was also such an awful way to go out. no one expected it. it just doesn’t feel like his story is over.

**sTammyVicino  
** Woah, Katsuki is actually a really good commentator. I had my doubts at first, but you can tell he really knows his stuff.

 **becca  
** idk if its just me wishing, but he sounds like he misses the ice.

 **HockeyJock  
** Who the hell is Katsuki Yuuri and why is everyone talking about him like he’s some bigshot?

> Hide replies...
> 
> **crispycrispino  
>  ** wait you dont know who katsuki yuuri is?
> 
> **Sketraonice  
>  ** katsuki yuuri is a japanese skater. he’s been japan’s national champion every year since he hit the circuit, and is the only japanese skater to make it to the gpf in a decade or so. he was badly injured at the japanese nationals a couple of months ago, after… imploding… at the gpf, and retired after that.
> 
> **HockeyJock  
>  ** Wait, this isn’t hockey?
> 
> **crispycrispino  
>  ** …...

 

 

 

The media frenzy at Worlds is exactly as he always remembered it being.  After all, he’d been on the other side of it for years. He knows how it is— the mics shoved continuously in his face, vulturesque reporters screaming their questions at him, the sheer cacophony of it all. That said, being on _this_ side of the media frenzy is very different.

It’s seven in the morning, and the competition isn’t even starting till tomorrow, but the crowd outside the arena is already sheer madness. He feels ill within the first few seconds of stepping into the crowd. The crush of bodies is extremely claustrophobic, and combined with the screaming of fans and the constant flicker of cameras flashing, it’s a complete nightmare.

It also only lasts for about five minutes.

It’s five minutes of squirming through the horde of other squirming bodies, before they pop into the arena through a convenient side-door. Inside, it’s a lot less crowded. There are plenty of people standing or sitting around with press passes, but they are mostly just flipping quietly through their notes, or fixing up their sound and camera equipment. It's quiet.

“A lot of the people outside are fans or tabloid reporters waiting for the athletes to arrive at the front,” Morooka explains, “You need a press pass to get in the arena, and they don't give those to just anyone.”

Morooka seems to know his way around, so Yuuri just follows him quietly as he scouts out a place to settle down. There’s a cameraperson with them too, lugging several bags of equipment silently, until Yuuri offers to help with one. They end up in the press box, up behind the audience seats. It's quiet without the chatter of the crowd, with only the shuffle of papers as other reporters organize their working space. It's quite unlike Yuuri’s own experience with the press.

“I expected this to be a much noisier experience,” Yuuri confesses. Morooka just laughs.

They soon pick a place to sit down, and Morooka spreads out a small file of papers.

“These are some notes about the people who’ll be competing on Wednesday,” he says, “You already have a good knowledge of the technicals, but I thought you might need some help catching up on all the competitors.”

These notes are a lot more comprehensive, and makes the research he’d done on his own look preliminary. Yuuri gratefully settles down to do some reading. The other two lean forward to watch the first practice group take to the ice.

 

 

 

He sits back again an hour later, his brain feeling inflated with all the knowledge he’s ingested over the past hour. He knows so much about competitors he’s never met now. He knows so much about competitors he _has_ met now. He and Chris had been competing together for years, but he didn’t know Chris had changed coaches three times, or that he’d broken his wrist during a competition once in juniors. That had been before Yuuri had started competing.

Beside him, Morooka smiles.

“Tired?” he asks, “We can take a break and go interview some of the skaters — or, if you want to go to the practice rink, it’s a five minute walk from here. Just flash your press pass. The ice dancers are practicing there now.”

Yuuri doesn’t know any ice dancers. The men’s skaters are here in the main arena though.

“Minami-kun is in group three, right?” he asks, “I want to watch him.”

He also wants to watch Viktor, who’s in the practice group after that. Morooka seems to guess his intentions because a grin is spreading across his face.

“We’ll have to interview Minami-kun once he comes off the ice,” Morooka says, “But after that, we can sit in the front row and watch Viktor skate.”

Yuuri blushes, embarrassed at his transparency, and checks the time.

“Group three will be starting in about half an hour,” he notes.

“We can head down into the stands in fifteen,” Morooka decides, “The view isn’t as good from up here.”

Yuuri nods.

Fifteen minutes later, they pack up and head down into the stands. There’s a row of designated press seats with tables in the middle of the stands. It’s a lot closer to the action, but Yuuri imagines it can get loud during competition when the fans are cheering. They watch the practice group take to the ice from there. Meanwhile, the cameraperson begins to set up his equipment, adjusting the settings on his camera and recording equipment.

There is unfortunately only one Japanese skater for this year. In previous years, it had always been Yuuri and Minami. No one else could reliably meet the minimum technical scores to be included. Yuuri had always sort of noted Minami because of that, but they had never properly spoken to each other. Yuuri had trained in Detroit all year round, after all, while Minami trained in Japan. They had never even travelled together for Worlds.

Yuuri winces as Minami falls on a triple axel, under-rotated. He gets up with a fierce look on his face, takes one round around the ice, and tries again. He falls.

Yuuri shuffles back through the file in his lap until he finds Minami’s profile. It says that the triple axel is his biggest weakness, but is also the jump that he’s most determined to succeed at. It’s tricky, Yuuri knows. Most skaters just aren’t used to the forward-facing entry.

Yuuri looks up in time to see Minami under-rotate another axel. He seems to give up then, and goes into practicing the rest of his routine, slumping a little. Yuuri can’t help but feel bad for him. It always feels terrible to mess up jumps during practice time.

“You should encourage him when we talk to him later,” Morooka says.

Yuuri nods.

They begin heading down soon after that, camera set up and ready on their cameraman’s shoulder. They catch Minami as he’s coming off the ice chattering away at his coach. In fact, he walks right into Yuuri in his distraction.

“Excuse me for the intrusion,” Yuuri takes the chance to cut in, “How are you feeling about the competition tomorrow, Minami-kun?”

Minami turns to look up at him, blinking in confusion, and double-takes _hard._ His eyes widen to the size of saucers. He immediately falls silent. Yuuri shifts his weight uncomfortably and clutches his clipboard to his chest, wondering why Minami isn’t answering the question. Has Yuuri offended him in some way?

Minami’s coach clears her throat, looking amused.

“Kenjirou-kun,” she pushes gently, “Katsuki-kun asked you how you're feeling about the  competition.”

“Uh,” Minami begins, looking dazed, “I’m— Yes.”

Morooka is laughing quietly at the side.

Yuuri is at a loss. Should he repeat the question? Should he ask another one?

Before he can reach a decision, Minami shakes his head, and then looks up again, looking a little less poleaxed now.

“I mean,” he says, “I think there’s more resting on my performance this year, since I’m the only competitor. I was very sad to hear that Yuuri-kun had retired. I wanted to compete with you in the GPF series one day, and eventually stand on the podium with you on an international level, Yuuri-kun! Because of that I felt like I needed to take my program to the next level.”

Yuuri blinks and clears his throat, unsure what to say to that. He didn’t know Minami thought about him that way?

“I noticed that you fell on your triple axel three times,” Morooka cuts in, “But you’ve also upgraded a double axel, triple toe combination to a _triple_ axel, triple toe combination for Worlds—”

“My coach keeps telling me to downgrade it back to a double!” Minami laments.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Yuuri says gently, “If you fall on the triple axel in combination, you’ll get a deduction _and_ you’ll lose the value of the following jump.”

Minami’s coach throws him a grateful look, but Minami puffs up, indignant.

“I can’t do that!” he cries, “The triple axel is Yuuri-kun’s signature jump! After I found out Yuuri-kun had retired, I knew I had to skate it at Worlds!”

Yuuri’s mouth falls open.

He’s silent for a long moment, shocked and unsure what to say, and only closes his mouth once he notices that their cameraman has shifted to camera angle to include him in it. He really has no idea what to say to the boy. He looks to Morooka for help, but his colleague is just frantically gesturing at him to speak.

He clears his throat, blinking.

“Triple axels are different from double axels,” he says, a little hoarsely, “When I was watching from the stands, I noticed that you skate your triple axels like your double axels. Instead of driving your knee up so high, you’ll want to keep your legs closer than you do for the double. That way, you’ll start spinning sooner, and you can get more rotations in before landing.”

Minami gapes up at him for a moment, then his eyes begin to sparkle as if Yuuri's just hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

“Kanako-sensei!” he exclaims, tugging at his coach’s sleeve, “Do you think there’s another rink nearby?”

“We did see an outdoor rink on the bus here, didn’t we?”

Minami gasps.

“Let’s go!” he cries, “I must go and try my axel again, at once!”

As Minami begins to scurry away, his coach turns to mouth a quick _thank you_ at Yuuri, before letting herself be dragged off by her over-enthusiastic student. Yuuri just blinks in confusion.

“Well, that was a ride,” Morooka says, and then looks at his watch, “The Russian skaters should be taking the ice soon.”

“Oh, we need to find good seats! They always get snatched up so fast when Viktor’s skating!”

Morooka laughs.

“After the practice,” he continues, as Yuuri begins walking briskly back towards the nearest aisle, “We are obligated to _try_ to get a soundbite from Viktor. That said, in all my years of commentating I've never succeeded. He's just too popular, and he also favors the Russian reporters of course. Even if he didn’t, my English isn't very good. That’s where you come in this time, eh?”

There's a gaggle of reporters standing ahead of them, with cameras and boom mics out.

“Why are all these people—” Yuuri begins impatiently as he starts squeezing through the crowd. If they don't hurry all the good seats will be taken up. What gave all these people the bright idea to interview someone _here,_ in the aisle, blocking everyone getting to their seats, anyway? They are blocking the entry to the rink too.

“Uh, wait a second—” Morooka calls out from behind, tone getting more urgent as Yuuri breaks through the crowd, _“Katsuki-kun!”_

He walks immediately into someone tall. His clipboard clatters to the floor, papers going everywhere.

“Oh, I'm so sorry—”

He bends to pick his papers, and hesitates as the other person bends at the same time.

 _“Katsuki-kun—”_ Morooka hisses, sounding vaguely horrified.

With growing dread, Yuuri looks slowly up at the person he's bumped into.

It's Viktor. Of course it's Viktor.

 _Ah_ , Yuuri thinks to himself, a little hysterically, _so_ _that's why there's a crowd_.

Viktor is just staring at him in return, blue eyes wide — and his eyes are much, _much_ bluer in person. Up close, Yuuri also realizes that Viktor has a very light dusting of freckles over his nose and cheekbones, which he's never noticed before in interviews, and quickly opens his mouth before his brain can spiral downwards into hopeless internal screaming over that realization.

“If you win Worlds again this year, you’ll be the first and only skater to hold the title of World Champion for five years consecutively,” Yuuri blurts out, in English, “How are you feeling about that, and what are your plans for the next season?”

Viktor looks entirely taken aback at the question.

“Uh,” he stammers— _stammers!_ in a very un-press-like manner, “I don't— I’m not sure what I'll do next season. I thought— well, I thought I had a plan for the next season? But I think that's fallen through — as you know.”

Yuuri does not, in fact, know — but Viktor has a noticeable accent when he speaks English, heavy around the consonants and richer in timber, and Yuuri is spiraling again.

“How come you didn't compete at the Four Continents?” Viktor demands suddenly.

“I—” Yuuri begins, and now it's his turn to be taken aback, “I didn't think you remembered me.”

“Of course I remember you!” Viktor exclaims, seeming almost offended.

Yuuri has no idea what is happening.

“I retired,” he says.

 _“What!”_ Viktor cries.

He's genuinely upset about it too, and the reporters can tell, because there are camera flashes going off now, the ones behind Yuuri inching sideways to get Yuuri on-screen. Viktor seems to notice, because he's backing down, smiling the smile he always smiles in interviews. It's a little strained, and Yuuri wonders for the first time if that's not his real smile. He says something in Russian to the reporters, smiling dazzlingly as they laugh, charmed, before he steps out onto the ice.

He gives Yuuri a single backward glance as he skates out to the center.

Yuuri is not sure how to interpret his expression in that moment.

 

 

 

 **CBC Sports** _@cbcsports_ _. 4h  
_ _@v-nikiforov runs into retired Japanese skater @katsuki-yuri before practice at Helsinki, and gives most honest response yet about plans for the future._ _youtu.be/PxbEbn?Akr_

 **sTammy Vicino** _@tammy-nikiforov_ _. 3h  
_ _Viktor’s accent is a little thick, but he definitely says that he had plans for next season that fell through. Does that mean he’d been planning to retire and do something else???_

> **CBC Sports** _@cbcsports  
>  _ _@v-nikiforov runs into retired Japanese skater @katsuki-yuri before practice at Helsinki, and gives most honest response yet about plans for the future._ _youtu.be/PxbEbn?Akr_

**GoldSkateFan** _@goldskatefan . 3h  
_ _@tammy-nikiforov It definitely seems like it?? Especially in this context, he said “as you know” to Katsuki, who’s transited successfully out of skating… maybe he’d asked Katsuki for advice on transiting and so Katsuki knew when his plans fell through?_

 **Melanie Nikiforov** _@melanie-nyugen . 3h  
_ _@tammy-nikiforov @goldskatefan woah guys chill out for a sec. he didn’t actually mention retiring at any point. I think katsuki was asking in the context of future programs, and he meant that the programs he was planning fell through, so he’s not sure what his theme for the next season will look like._

 _**テレ朝 news** _@tv_asahi_news _. 4h  
_ _ _ 新入社員は仕事が難しい！ 頑張 _@katsuki-yuri！_ _youtu.be/NnbQbe?PKx_

 **Little Katsudon** _@little-katsu . 3h  
_ _yuuri-kun finally got to meet his idol XD! his american accent is sooo cute!_   

> **テレ朝 news** _@tv_asahi_news  
>  _ 新入社員は仕事が難しい！ 頑張 _@katsuki-yuri！_ _youtu.be/NnbQbe?PKx_

**Bee Katsuki** _@oh-yuri-my-yuri_ _. 3h  
_ _@little-katsu omg the footage is actually so funny? my japanese isn’t so good, but morooka is actually telling yuuri about how difficult it is to get a quote from viktor, and that he’s never gotten one ever, and then yuuri just absently walks into viktor and gets a quote on his first day._

 **Katsuki Yuri FC** _@official-kyuri-fanclub_ _. 3h  
_ _@little-katsu @oh-yuri-my-yuri he was also fanboying at the beginning like we need to find good seats to watch viktor! and then during his conversation with viktor he looked like he was actually zoning out from fanboying so hard inside hahaha!_

 **Daily Mirror** _@DailyMirror_ _. 2h  
_ _Russia’s four-time World Figure Skating Champion, Viktor Nikiforov, OWNS UP to secret retirement plans!_ _mirror.co.uk/sports/skating…_

 **Perez Hilton** _@PerezHilton_ _. 1h  
_ _If you like K-drama, a scene like this probably looks familiar to you ;) Will love blossom between the two skaters?_  

> **CBC Sports** _@cbcsports  
>  _ _@v-nikiforov runs into retired Japanese skater @katsuki-yuri before practice at Helsinki, and gives most honest response yet about plans for the future._ _youtu.be/PxbEbn?Akr_

**Minami Kenjirou** _@minami-kenjirou_ _. 1h  
_ やったああああああああああああああああああああ！勇利君はかっこいいいいいい！｡ﾟヽ(ﾟ´Д｀)ﾉﾟ｡ 

> **テレ朝 news** _@tv_asahi_news  
>  _ 新入社員は仕事が難しい！ 頑張 _@katsuki-yuri！_ _youtu.be/NnbQbe?PKx_

 

 

 


	2. courante

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art was done by:  
> [rikichie](https://rikichie.tumblr.com/), art [here](https://rikichie.tumblr.com/post/170680528587/this-is-my-first-piece-for-the-bigbangonice-for)  
> [NothingTea](http://nothingtea.tumblr.com/), art [here](http://nothingtea.tumblr.com/post/170680174348/he-may-have-finished-eleventh-the-commentator)  
> 

After practice ends, a bus comes to take them all back to the hotel. Yuuri and Morooka are staying at the same hotel as all the skaters, and they coincidentally get onto the same bus as Minami Kenjirou and his coach. Yuuri hadn’t expected to see him again, since his practice had ended so early in the morning.

“I went to practice my triple axel!” Minami trills, “There was an outdoor rink near here, so we went there. There are so many outdoor rinks here, right, Yuuri-kun? There aren't so many outdoor rinks in Japan, even in Tokyo! But it's also so, so, _so_ cold here. I can't stand it at all! Can you?”

He’s _fanboying_ , Yuuri realizes. Usually he’d be uncomfortable at that, but he’d just checked Twitter and basically _everyone and their mothers,_ and probably also their grandmothers, had noticed him fanboying over Viktor, so he really has no room to judge.

“It _is_ very cold,” Yuuri says weakly in response.

He notices that their cameraman has discreetly started the camera running again. Morooka is hiding a smile behind his papers.

“Yuuri-kun, look at this!” Minami is saying, scooting a little closer to Yuuri.

Yuuri obligingly looks at the video that Minami is trying to show him. It’s a video of Minami, landing a triple axel.

“Oh,” Yuuri says, and smiles as Minami starts whooping in the video, then takes another round around the rink to do another triple axel, slightly more wobbly here, in glee— “That _is_ a very good triple axel.”

Minami is getting uncharacteristically shy now, looking down and rubbing the back of his head.

“It’s not a GOE +3 axel like Yuuri-kun’s,” he says, “But I really wanted to do justice to your triple axels! They are a GOE +3,000,000 in my heart!”

Yuuri can’t help but melt at that. He’s such a sweet boy.

“Your axel looks like a GOE +3 axel to me,” Yuuri says in returns, smiling, “And even if the judges don’t think so tomorrow, it’s still a GOE +3 in my heart.”

Minami lets out a long, high-pitched noise— Yuuri is almost concerned for a moment, then Minami throws his arms around Yuuri’s waist, overwhelmed. Yuuri pats him gently on the back. Their cameraperson stops the camera, and then lowers it, still grinning.

 

 

 

The ice crunches on the landing of the quadruple toe — Yuuri veers a little on the landing, but the rotations are all in. He turns it into a flourish, and moves immediately into the step sequence. The music singing inside him brings levity to his movements, his eyes closed as he spins across the ice, arms light, swoops down low and then high with one hand, then moves forward into the triple axel — lands it with ease.

Into the combination spin, going down low with one hand against his heart, reaching out with the other. Another step sequence. His blades scratch against the ice in the silence, the familiar sound of late nights alone, just him and the ice with no one to watch him but the night sky and the stars above. Inside him, there’s a music he still can’t silence, driving him to skate it out. The haunting sound of it is what had ultimately dragged him here from the warmth of his hotel room.

He reaches back with one foot, and launches himself into the quadruple salchow.

The landing goes wrong, and he puts one hand down, but it isn’t enough to keep him up. He rolls over once from the momentum of the jump, body sliding a little over the ice. When he finally draws to a halt, he turns over onto his back and just lays there for a moment as he looks up into the night sky.

“You need to keep your hips tighter,” a familiar voice says.

Yuuri sits up immediately, eyes wide.

Viktor is standing just off the ice, a pair of gold-bladed skates in hand. He’s wearing a black down jacket over a plain grey t-shirt and sweatpants — very casual.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks.

Yuuri can’t do anything else but nod.

Viktor sits down on one of the benches, and begins to expertly lace up his skates. Yuuri manages to draw his eyes away with some difficulty. He doesn’t want to come across as a creep, so he launches into the step sequence from his last free skate, the one he had messed up so badly at the Grand Prix — the one that had ended his career at Nationals.

The step sequence ends in a quadruple toe, triple toe combination, which he nails. His quadruple toe had always been somewhat reliable in practice, though unreliable under competition stress. His quadruple salchow, however, had been a problem both during practice and competition. He just didn't have the technique down.

“Is that your free skate from the GPF?” Viktor calls from across the ice.

Yuuri stops, and turns to face him, nodding. A slight smile comes over Viktor’s face.

“I’ve watched that routine so many times,” he says fondly, “You did it so much better at the _Trophée de France_.”

He says it with the proper French pronunciation.

He’s skating a little closer now, still smiling that unfamiliar smile, but Yuuri’s not sure what to think or say. Viktor Nikiforov? The four-time champion and darling of the skating world? Why would he ever watch Yuuri’s subpar programs?

“You won silver then,” Viktor continues quietly, “But I thought you should have won gold.”

“Please don’t say that!” Yuuri exclaims, scandalized, “Chris deserved the gold. He skated beautifully.”

Viktor shakes his head, laughing.

“He thought you should have won too. He starts off slow, but he told me that one of the judges liked him better because he’s francophone. That judge inflated his presentation scores.”

He shrugs.

“But maybe I’m biased,” he admits.

Yuuri feels like he must have knocked his head on the fall after his salchow. It’s like he’s taken one step forward and ended up in a dream, a dream in which Viktor Nikiforov has watched his skates, multiple times according to him, and in which Viktor Nikiforov has professed to be _biased_ towards his skates. He’s not sure what’s happening.

The anxiety begins to swell up inside him then. He’s really not sure what he’s done to give Viktor this false impression of him, but whatever it is that he’d done, there’s no way he can keep on doing it. He’s just— he’s just _Yuuri_ , a dime-a-dozen skater from rural Japan who’d thought he’d had talent enough to compete internationally, but been proven painfully wrong. And then there’s the whole problem with his ankle—

On cue, his ankle begins to throb from his earlier fall.

He bends to grab his ankle tightly, and can’t help the quiet pained noise as the pain flares. That’s what happens when he goes for a jump as hard as the quadruple salchow. He’s retired for a reason. His body just can’t keep up anymore, and he should do well to remember that.

“Are you okay?” Viktor asks, concerned, “Cramp?”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“I injured myself during a competition,” he manages through gritted teeth, “That’s the reason I retired, in the end.”

Viktor skates over, bending to place one hand on Yuuri’s ankle.

“What happened to it?” he asks, eyes wide.

Yuuri shrugs.

“The doctor couldn’t tell me exactly what was wrong,” he admits, “The pain comes and goes. Sometimes it’s perfectly fine for jumps. Sometimes it starts to hurt after a jump with no warning. I don’t know what’s wrong with it either.”

“Here,” Viktor says, and grabs his wrist, “Put your arm around my shoulder. We should sit down and let your ankle rest.”

Viktor supports him off the ice, hoisting him up on one side so that he doesn’t have to put any weight on his injured ankle.

They sit down on one of the benches by the rink. Yuuri gently pulls his skate off and rotates his ankle a few times, wincing at the tinges of pain running up his leg as he does. Viktor crouches in front of him, pulling his gloves off to rub his hands together, before putting his warmed hands around Yuuri’s ankle. It feels nice.

“Yakov used to do this for me when I hurt myself as a child,” he says.

He’s being very kind — so kind that Yuuri isn’t entirely sure how to respond.

Viktor chuckles weakly, not raising his gaze from Yuuri’s ankle.

“Is this okay?” he asks, keeping his eyes down, “Would it be better if I left you alone? You can’t— you can’t even look at me.”

“No,” Yuuri says, snapping out of his silence guiltily, “It’s not you. I’m just a little nervous.”

Viktor looks relieved.

“I’m a little nervous too,” he admits.

What has Viktor Nikiforov, soon to be five-time World Champion, got to be nervous about? Yuuri has no clue, but Viktor isn’t lying. He definitely seems a little nervous. Viktor rubs his hands together again, and puts them around Yuuri’s ankle. It’s right then that Yuuri realises that his ankle isn’t hurting any longer.

“Better?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri nods.

Viktor stands and holds out a hand to him, which Yuuri takes.

“I’m sorry to disturb your practice,” Viktor apologises to him, for some bizarre reason, “I can leave if you want.”

Yuuri can’t wrap his mind around it.

“You’re the one who’s competing tomorrow,” Yuuri says, “I should be offering to leave. I’ll just be getting in your way.”

“Please don’t leave,” Viktor pleads.

Yuuri can't say no to that.

They get back onto the ice together. Yuuri settles into compulsory figures in a corner, wary of re-aggravating his ankle by doing any more jumps. Viktor seems to have a similar idea. He’s skating his program, but turning all his jumps into singles, which is probably a good idea. Best not to risk injury the night before a competition.

They skate together in silence until Yuuri finally checks his watch and clears his throat, a little hesitant, reluctant for their time together to come to an end.

“I’m about to head back to my hotel,” he says, “I don’t know where you’re staying, but it’s getting late. If you want to stay and practice more, that’s okay too, but if you’re leaving, I’ll walk with you.”

“I’m staying at the same place as all the skaters.”

Yuuri thought that was the case.

“I’m staying there too.”

They leave the ice and unlace their boots, before beginning the walk back towards their hotel together, in complete silence. Yuuri wishes he had something to say, but he’s never been a very good conversationalist while sober. The worst part about it all is that the longer it drags on, the harder it is to break the silence, and it only gets exponentially more awkward with every passing moment.

Too soon, they are in the hotel lobby, getting into the lift. They reach for the same button at the same time.

They’re staying on the same floor.

Viktor clears his throat, and presses the button.

An awkward ride up to the fourth floor ensues. They both stare at the lift doors in complete silence, not even elevator music to fill the quiet, until finally, the doors opens on their floor.

Yuuri’s room is closer to the lift. As he stops to take out his key card, he desperately wills himself to say something, anything, to speak up and not let this be the end. He opens his mouth, screwing his eyes shut, just as Viktor stops abruptly outside his own door, ahead of Yuuri, and turns to him. Yuuri shuts his mouth.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Viktor asks, something just as desperate in his tone.

Yuuri nods woodenly.

Viktor’s shoulders ease, and a small smile comes across his face. He nods once, radiant with that small, private smile.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers softly.

He opens his hotel room door, and closes it quietly behind him.

 

 

 

The next day is much more hectic than the previous, now that the competition has begun in earnest. When he had still been competing, he’d never had to watch his competitors this intensely. In fact, most of the time, he hadn’t had to watch them at all. Watching his competitors had always made him anxious, so he would retreat somewhere quiet to warm up before his turn on the ice. After his turn, he'd usually retreat somewhere quiet again, this time to cry. He's spent a lot of time crying at competitions.

As a commentator now, however, he has to watch _all_ of the programs. Occasionally, he and Morooka have to run down from where they’ve set up, to interview a skater who’s come off the ice, and then run back up to continue commentating on the next competitor’s program.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Morooka pants halfway through the competition, “Your English is a lot better than mine, so you can interview the non-Japanese skaters.”

“Quickly,” Yuuri cries anxiously, taking the stairs two at a time,“We’re going to miss the beginning of Phichit’s short program!”

“You have way better stamina than me too,” Morooka observes, gasping hard and clutching at his chest.

They interview Phichit after his short program. To be honest, it’s not much of an interview. Yuuri had snatched at the chance to talk to his best friend, and even though he had tried to keep the tone of the interview professional, Phichit had begun yelling excitedly at the sight of him, and then _jumped into his arms._

“How do you feel about hitting the 90-point mark for your short program,” Yuuri manages, still carrying Phichit, who’s wriggling excitedly in his arms, “I understand that it’s the first time—”

“Yuuri!” Phichit cries, “Did you see my triple axel? Aren’t you proud?”

“Phichit,” Yuuri says helplessly, “The camera’s going live.”

The rest of the interviews go much better. Here and there, he gets some strange looks, or someone asking if he isn’t competing. Minami had come skipping off the ice to him, demanding to know if he’d seen _his_ triple axel, but after Yuuri had said yes and that it’d been a very well-executed axel indeed, the boy had settled down, quite satisfied to be interviewed.

Once Viktor takes the ice though, Yuuri is immovable. Morooka seems vaguely relieved at that, settling back in his chair, panting from the run they’d taken up the stairs to their seats.

The commentary pours from his mouth effortlessly. He knows this whole program forward and back. He doesn’t have to think to recognize the elements and speak their names. He’s watched this program so many times, even copied the steps late at night with no one to see — but—

But there’s something different about it this time. Something about his step sequences, his spins—

Viktor is _smiling._

Eyes closed, head tilted back, drawing one hand tenderly down his neck— it’s not the smile that Yuuri is used to seeing in interviews and programs. It’s that same strange smile that Yuuri had seen him wearing yesterday, the one that Yuuri is beginning to think is the way Viktor smiles when no one’s around to see.

There’s something tender in the way he skates that Yuuri’s never seen before.

Halfway through, Yuuri realizes he’s stopped talking, one hand over his throat and his eyes wide. Beside him, Morooka is picking up the commentary with excitement—

“This is a Viktor Nikiforov that we’ve never seen before!” he’s saying enthusiastically, “Just when everyone thought that he’d reached the peak of his abilities, he goes on to prove everyone wrong again!”

Yuuri just watches on in silence, a strange lump in his throat.

The program ends in a standing ovation. Viktor comes off the ice still wearing that private smile, before he stops, right off the ice, and turns his head up to look into the screaming crowd. His eyes sweep back and forth across the rows, standing utterly still as his coach begins to call for him from the kiss-and-cry.

Their eyes meet over the heads of the cheering crowd.

Viktor’s eyes widen at the sight of him.

Then, a brilliant, heart-shaped smile spreads across his face, slow and tender.

It hits Yuuri like a punch to the chest.

Viktor turns reluctantly away from him to join his coach at the kiss-and-cry.

“Viktor was definitely looking for someone in the crowd, wasn’t he?” Morooka comments to him, “A new girlfriend? Maybe even a boyfriend? He’s never been clear about his preference. What do you think?”

Yuuri just shrugs weakly.

The crowd begins to scream hysterically and Yuuri looks up at the screen, projecting Viktor’s face, with his short program score underneath him.

Viktor’s broken his own world record.

 

 

 

 **phichit…  
** **i need some advice**

**ask away!**

**what would you do if someone you’ve never met  
** **suddenly started expressing an interest in you?**

**someone you’ve never met?**

**yeah, like we’ve never even spoken before  
** **and now suddenly he’s behaving like  
** **idk**

**what’s your gut feel?**

**…**

**yuuuuuuuuriiii**

**i think he’s playing?**

**do you think he’s playing  
** **because you lack self-confidence  
** **and think no one can be sincerely attracted to you?**

**phichittttt**

**shoosh you know it’s happened before  
** **or does he have a Reputation?**

 **i guess he does have a bit of a reputation  
** **now that you mention it**

 **yikes  
** **well you know what i always say  
** **when there’s smoke there’s fire**

 **yeah you’re right  
** **he’s just so unexpectedly sweet**

 **well just because he’s playing  
** **doesn’t mean you can’t have fun!  
** **why not keep going with it?  
** **just don’t let yourself get hurt**

**we’ll see**

**is he hot?**

**....  
** **yes**

**SEND A PIC**

**goodnight phichit  
** **good luck for the free**

 **NO YUURI COME BACK  
** **DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING**

**YUURI**

 

 

 

The next day passes in another blur of commentating, interviewing, and running up and down the stairs between the two. He even manages to get a proper interview from Phichit this time, even though Phichit is visibly biting back from asking more about their text exchange. They interview Chris, who is relatively well-behaved until the end.

“Yuuri,” he says warmly as the cameras stop rolling, before walking up to him, and calmly _groping him_ . Through Yuuri’s shrieking, he continues with a pout, “The ice doesn’t feel the same without you, _mon ami_.”

When Viktor’s free program finally comes up, however, he’s almost apprehensive. _Stammi Vicino_ had always been his favorite program, but he’s still not really sure if he really wants to see how it’s changed, especially now with all this uncertainty and confusion weighing on him. Morooka begins to narrate as Viktor assumes his starting pose.

“With the emotional change in his short program yesterday,” he’s saying, “Everyone’s waiting to see what he’ll do with today’s free—”

Yuuri tunes him out, and sits forward, chin resting in his hands as the music begins.

To Yuuri, _Stammi Vicino_ had always been a program about loneliness, every yearning motion a call to an invisible partner, every outstretched hand pleading for someone to reach back. But where it had once been a call of _please_ , _can anyone hear me?_ it's now a call of _come dance with me again,_ tender and almost triumphant, and Yuuri just can't look away. There's a music swelling to life inside him in return, a reply trying to force itself from him. Yuuri clutches his chest and closes his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed.

It seems that no matter Viktor’s intentions, good or bad, there’ll always be that little boy deep down inside Yuuri who’ll still be in awe of Viktor. He's not sure how to feel about that. He opens his eyes, determined to watch the rest of the program. There are moments almost where he feels that he can no longer suppress the song rising in answer in his own heart, but he somehow manages to stay seated throughout it all.

At the end, Viktor comes off the ice to cacophonous applause. Yuuri finally allows emotion to pull him to his feet along with the rest of the audience for a standing ovation — and Viktor pauses there again, at the entrance to the rink, just like the day before.

With one hand against his heart, he raises his eyes to the crowd.

“He’s stopped by the side of the rink,” Morooka is narrating gleefully, “Is he looking for yesterday’s mystery person?”

There's this look in his eye as he sweeps through the rows, searching and desperate, almost like a plea _,_ and Yuuri can’t help it any longer.

He ducks his head and slides under the table, pressing his palms into his eyes. He can't face that gaze. All this is just — it's impossible, it makes no sense, it's just too confusing and — nope, just nope, he's done now. Obviously, this isn't happening. Obviously, _The_ Viktor Nikiforov, about to be five-time World Champion in maybe twenty minutes, had been looking for someone else in the crowd yesterday, coincidentally caught Yuuri’s eye, and smiled at him politely — like any new acquaintance would! This is all in Yuuri’s imagination and it's all about to go away now, in any moment, as he finds the person he’s looking for in the crowd.

“He’s heading for the kiss-and-cry, but wow, that _face._ It seems like he didn’t find who he was looking for after all."

There are thousands of people in the crowd, Yuuri reasons frantically, it’s more unlikely than it is likely to find _one_ person in that crowd of thousands!

Morooka leans down towards him.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Just got too excited for a second,” Yuuri lies weakly, and emerges slowly from underneath the desk, “I’m okay now.”

Viktor is taking a seat next to his coach, holding a bunch of flowers that had been thrown to him from above. He's looking down into his lap, his silver lashes swept thick and low. He only looks up as his scores are announced.

He's broken the free skate record. In fact, Yuuri realizes after a bit of quick math, he’s broken the record for _combined_ scores too. He's broken _all three records_ with one event, the way only Viktor can.

Viktor lowers his gaze back to his lap as the crowd goes wild.

He looks like it brings him no joy at all.

 

 

 

 **actually phichit  
** **i’ve changed my mind  
** **i just don't think he's interested  
** ****

**like really  
** **all those little things that could constitute interest  
** **well i think he was just being nice!  
** **it's not like he kissed me or held my hand**

 **i mean phichit do you think actions can constitute interest  
** **if it's not kissing or holding hands?  
** **because we did not kiss or hold hands  
** **therefore it's not really interest right?**

 **right  
** ****

**exactly**

 

 

 

The one time Phichit can be found away from his phone is usually after competitions. He knocks right out and sleeps until he has to get up for the gala. He's not going to answer.

But even without Phichit as a second opinion, the truth is becoming clearer and clearer the longer Yuuri considers it. The truth is that obviously, _very_ obviously, Yuuri is projecting his hopeless attraction to Viktor onto Viktor himself! Viktor is just— trying to be kind to him, a retired ex-competitor. There's no way. They've never even spoken properly before!

A sense of relief comes over him.

There was never anything to worry about after all.

Viktor is definitely not interested. It doesn’t matter that he’s apparently watched all of Yuuri’s skates, that he’d probably watched the Four Continents looking for Yuuri, and that he’s apparently spoken to Chris about Yuuri. And the ankle-holding thing? That Yakov had done for him as a child? He was just being kind. Smiling at him after his skate? Politeness and coincidence! Yuuri also needs to start writing those strangely honest smiles out of his memory. His memory is clearly faulty because there’s no way Viktor Nikiforov had been _looking_ at him like that, like Yuuri— _means_ something. Because— Yuuri _clearly_ does not— _mean_ something.

And with that — Yuuri stoops to pick his skates up on the way to the door — it’s out of sight, out of mind! He’s going to go and have himself a nice skate so that he can come back, tired out, and sleep well for the exhibition skate tomorrow.

Yuuri is mid-jump, when he hears the approaching patter of footsteps, and realizes the flaw in his plan. He looks up slowly and with dawning horror, in time to see Viktor stopping at the side of the ice, his face lighting up at the sight of Yuuri. Amidst all the internal screaming, Yuuri vaguely registers the sound of Viktor’s voice.

“Is it okay if I join you?” Viktor calls.

There's no polite way for Yuuri to say no to that.

He nods stiffly.

Viktor sits down to pull his skates on, breath puffing from him in little white clouds. He's a little more bundled up today, probably because it's colder today than it had been the last few days. Even though March is waning surely into April, the winter in Helsinki is drawing longer than usual. He pulls his scarf off before stepping onto the ice.

“I thought you might have already left,” he confesses, still breathless from his run as he skates over to Yuuri.

“Left?” Yuuri repeats dumbly.

“Yeah, I didn't see you sitting beside your co-commentator after my free skate today and I just— well, I thought you'd left early.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says, “I was there. I was just—”

 _I was just hiding under the table because I thought you may have been looking for me after skating your emotional program about love and yearning._ He can't say that, of course.

“I was just away from my seat,” he manages stiffly. A moment of conflict, fighting internally with himself, then— “Your program was beautiful.”

Viktor beams. Yuuri has been starting to notice over the course of the last few days that Viktor has a strangely heart-shaped smile. It seems to be because his cupid’s bow dips down lower than most people and, like everything else about Viktor, it is unfortunately very endearing. Yuuri can't look away now that's he's noticed it.

A moment later, he realises that it was a bad idea to let himself get so captivated because Viktor is waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yuuri,” he's saying, “Are you okay? You suddenly went silent.”

“Yes, I’m okay! I was just,” Yuuri says, and realises too late that he has no excuse at the ready, “ _Uhmhmmuhbuhmm_.”

“You were _what?”_ Viktor asks, coming a little closer to hear Yuuri better and nope, no, not happening— he instinctively sticks his arm up, palm out, and Viktor pauses as it comes right up against his chest. He slowly looks down at the palm against his chest, confused and puzzled, and Yuuri just wants to die.

Viktor looks like he's trying to figure out the appropriate way to respond, like any normal person would in response to the colossal, socially dysfunctional wreck of a human being that Yuuri is. Meanwhile, Yuuri stares at his own hand against Viktor’s chest, trying desperately to wish it away. Oh my god, a part of him can't help but think, despite it all, I am _touching_ him. He feels immediately betrayed at himself for the thought. Focus, Yuuri, how does he salvage this now?

“Uh,” he begins dumbly, “I— What I really mean by this is—”

Viktor is looking at him now, confusion written all over him.

 _“Tag!”_ he shouts, without thinking, and takes off streaking across the ice.

There's a moment of stunned silence. In that moment, Yuuri’s internal state feels oddly like watching a giant stack of cans topple apart at a grocery store in slow-motion, because _Viktor is twenty-seven and both of them are too old for these childish games and—_ and then he hears the rapid gravelly crunch of Viktor’s skates against the ice behind him, and, because Viktor Nikiforov is _apparently_ a twenty-seven year old _child_ , he's screaming, “You _cheat!”_ appalled but also delighted, and “You surprised me! That isn't _fair!”_

This is hardly a full-sized Olympic rink however, so there's really no room to escape once he's reached the end of the rink. As he's turning to try and make a hundred-eighty, Viktor smacks into him from behind, grabbing him securely around the waist to stop him from falling. They spin around once from the momentum of their crazed dash, before Yuuri’s toe pick catches on a scratch in the ice, and they go tumbling down.

He lands on top of Viktor, breath huffing out of him with the force of impact.

He lands _on top of_ Viktor.

He lands on top of _Viktor._

His brain flatlines. There's an interesting scratch on the ice in the shape of a squiggle. Somewhere else, he can hear a car driving through the snow. There's no one called Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov doesn't exist. Who's Viktor Nikiforov? Yuuri certainly doesn't know.

But the body underneath him is starting to tremble, so he reluctantly peers up at Viktor’s face.

Viktor is laughing. One hand over his face, barely making a noise, but he's laughing. His silent laughter breaks into a gasp, before he takes his hand off his face, and looks down at Yuuri. His eyes are bright, cheeks flushed. His smile is stunned but inexplicably delighted.

“Yuuri Katsuki,” he says wonderingly, “Just when I think I've got you down, you always surprise me again.”

 

* * *

 

 

  

His back smacks loudly against the wall as Viktor pulls him around and slams him into it. He has little time to be concerned about the neighbors, because Viktor is immediately surging up against him, mouth wet and warm and so goddamned fucking good against his own. Beside them, the door to Viktor’s hotel room clicks quietly shut.

How he got here, he doesn’t know— but with how good Viktor’s mouth is as it draws down from his lips to his jaw, down the sensitive side of this throat— he isn’t really thinking very well. That mouth should be _illegal_.

“Yuuri,” Viktor is huffing quietly against his neck, _“Yuuri.”_

Yuuri grabs Viktor by the back of the head and impatiently brings their lips together again. Viktor lets out a surprised, punched out moan. When Yuuri tightens his fist experimentally, Viktor shivers and mouths more desperately at Yuuri’s lips.

So he likes having his hair pulled.

Something warms inside Yuuri at that, clenching tight and low in his stomach.

He pushes forward fiercely, driving Viktor backwards until his knees hit the bed, forcing him to sit. Viktor immediately lies back, pulling Yuuri down on top of him. Yuuri can feel the press of what is unmistakably a boner against his hip. Viktor can probably feel Yuuri’s too, because he's pushing his thigh up and into Yuuri’s crotch with a quiet moan. Yuuri can't help but start grinding down against Viktor in response.

The sensation of Viktor writhing enthusiastically against him is sharp and sweet, intoxicating. He wants more.

Sitting back, he pushes Viktor's sweatpants down his hips and pulls his cock out. It's pale and slim, but when he pulls down on the foreskin, the head is a delicious dark pink, wet with precome. Yuuri just _has_ to bend down to give that messy pink head a suck. Viktor's hips twitch as Yuuri rubs his thumb across the frenulum, releases the head with a pop. The salty taste of it lingers in his mouth. He lays his body against Viktor’s again, kissing him to make him taste it.

Viktor pushes blindly at Yuuri’s hips, somehow managing to get his pants down as well, and they both gasp before beginning to grind harder against each other. Viktor’s hands grip his hips. Yuuri kisses him harder, and he answers with a low moan. It’s messy and inelegant, the two of them just rutting like teenagers, but Viktor kisses him so hot and so needy, and Yuuri never wants to stop.

“Your mouth,” he gasps against Viktor’s lips, “God, your mouth should be illegal.”

Viktor lets out a surprised huff of laughter.

“I want to suck you,” he says.

Yuuri has literally never gotten up so fast in his life.

Soon, they’re both naked, and Yuuri is straddling Viktor’s chest, holding himself steady by the base as he taps the head of his cock against Viktor’s plush bottom lip. Viktor opens his mouth readily and curls his tongue around the underside, before raising his head a little to get his lips around the rest of the head.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri breathes.

Viktor closes his eyes and begins to suck. He’s got his hands on Yuuri’s ass, pulling him forward, encouraging him to push further into that hot, wet mouth. He’s flushed pink all the way down to his chest, silver lashes thick against his flushed cheeks. He looks like a fucking wet dream.

He raises his head, lips sliding halfway down to the base, before he tilts back and lets it pop from his lips.

“Yuuri,” he says breathlessly, “You can— move your hips.”

Fuck.

Once Viktor’s got his lips around him again, Yuuri begins to rock slowly forward into his mouth, cautious at first to avoid choking him. Viktor just closes his eyes and moans a little, hands still pushing insistently at Yuuri’s ass. Taking that as encouragement, Yuuri begins to rock a little faster against Viktor’s face. There’s a moment that he dissociates a little, and in that moment a thought pops into his head. _Oh my god,_ he thinks, _I’m face-fucking Viktor Nikiforov._

The moment ends as quickly as it’d come.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

Viktor nods a little, then says something muffled around his cock that sounds suspiciously like _deeper._

“Deeper?”

Viktor nods again, so he shifts forward again until he hits the back of Viktor’s throat. He pauses there for a moment, consideringly, then pushes a little further forward. Viktor’s face immediately screws up, and Yuuri can feel his throat contract around the head of his cock for a blinding moment, before he quickly scoots back. He waits until Viktor has composed himself, giving Yuuri a small nod, before he begins to rock his hips again.

After a moment, he reaches down and gently cards his hand into Viktor’s hair. He continues to thrust as he tightens his hand into a fist. Viktor’s eyes fly open in shock.

God, his eyes are so blue it’s unreal.

“You like it when I pull your hair, don’t you?” he notes quietly, “I noticed just now.”

Viktor just whimpers, closing his eyes again.

“Look at me,” Yuuri says, and his eyes snap back open immediately, “I want to see you.”

A pleased flush comes over Viktor’s face, and he starts to bob his head a little to meet Yuuri’s thrusts. Satisfied that Viktor is enjoying himself too, Yuuri eases and really starts to let himself feel the pleasure of it. It’s easy. Viktor’s mouth is so hot and wet around him, his throat tightening so good around the head of Yuuri’s cock. God, the way he swallows with each thrust. Yuuri can’t help but rock a little faster, beginning to chase his pleasure a little, picking up the pace when Viktor just moans encouragingly and grabs his thighs.

A moment later, one hand lets go. Viktor’s eyes flutter closed as his breathing starts to hitch, before he opens his eyes again, seeming to remember Yuuri’s request. Yuuri looks back to see that he’s started fisting his cock in one hand. Yuuri almost wants to stop him, because _he_ wants to do that, but he doesn’t have the right angle, and it would be really awful to tell Viktor not to touch himself while Yuuri’s selfishly taking his pleasure from him.

“If you haven’t come by the time I’m done,” Yuuri promises instead, “You can fuck me.”

The other hand comes back to Yuuri’s ass immediately, and things go very quickly from there.

His thrusts get harder and faster as he pushes towards orgasm, but Viktor doesn’t complain at all. Instead, he just stares up at Yuuri with those impossibly blue eyes before he begins to moan around Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri has to hunch over at the pleasure of it, Viktor’s throat vibrating around the sensitive head of his cock as he thrusts. Viktor reaches over to wet his fingers against Yuuri’s cock, before reaching back, behind him. The first brush of those wet fingers against the rim of his hole, and that’s the end of it.

His orgasm hits him hard and fast, a sharp burst of pleasure that carries him high before letting him fall in an exhilarating rush. He claps one hand over his mouth, eyes screwing shut, successfully containing his sounds to a few muffled cries.

When he comes back to himself, he gets the pleasure of watching Viktor lick the cum from his lips, a satisfied grin on his face, before sitting up and tumbling Yuuri down to the bed, pushing his thighs firmly open. Yuuri watches him pad off to retrieve a travel packet of lube and a condom between the vee of his own spread legs. Viktor returns quickly and crawls back over Yuuri with that same satisfied look, pulling Yuuri’s thighs over his shoulders.

“You know,” he says, tearing the condom’s packaging carefully before rolling it down over his cock, “I _really_ wanted to hear you when you came just now.”

He rips the packet of lube open with his teeth, and bends Yuuri in half to plant a chaste kiss against his lips.

“But it’s okay,” he murmurs into the kiss, “Cause now, I’ll get to hear you _scream._ ”

 

 

 

 **Phichit Chulanont  
** 3 Missed Calls 

 

 

**yuuri are you ok?**

**are you panicking?  
** **because you sound like you’re panicking  
** **and i mean  
** **what did he do exactly?  
** **if you thought he was coming on to you  
** **it must have been for some reason right?  
** **even if it wasn’t kissing or holding hands**

**yuuri?**

**yuuri???**

**i’m gonna call you**  

 **ok yuuri i hope you’re sleeping  
** **and not panicking  
** **if you’re panicking STOP NOW  
** **and call me back**

**erm**

**yuuri!  
** **you’re… awake  
** **so were you panicking or?**

 **i panicked  
** **then  
** **in my panic  
** **i  
** **accidentally slept with him?**

**yuuri**

**and we exchanged numbers**

**HOW DO YOU ACCIDENTALLY SLEEP WITH SOMEONE**

**and he kissed me and he was like  
** **i’ll be at the world team trophy in tokyo**

**OH MY GOD**

**will i see you there**

**YUURI YOU LITTLE SLUT  
** **I’M SO PROUD OF YOU**

 **WAIT  
** **BUT IS HE PLAYING?  
** **I STILL DON’T KNOW**

 **TELL ME MORE  
** **I CAN’T TELL UNLESS I KNOW THE DETAILS**

 **I DON’T KNOW HOW TO TELL YOU  
** **WITHOUT REVEALING WHO HE IS**

 **WAIT  
** **DO I KNOW HIM  
** **OH MY GOD I DO DON’T I?  
** **WORLD TEAM TROPHY?  
** **HE’S A SKATER**

 **YUURI?**  

**YUURI???**

**goodnight phichit it’s getting late  
** **exhibition skate tomorrow**

**YUURI!!!!!!!!!!!!**

 

 

 

**[Buzzfeed] 13 Times Skaters Showed Their Love For Yuuri Katsuki at Helsinki 2017 And He Was Horrified**

The figure skating community has always been known for being close-knit and friendly, and  when Japanese skater, Yuuri Katsuki, announced his retirement early this year, the community was left shaken. So when he made a reappearance at the World Championships, not as a skater but as a press-member, competing skaters were determined to show him their love. Fans _loved it._ Katsuki not so much. Many gifs and video clips have gone viral, but we’ve chosen the best 13 of the lot.

**1\. When Minami Kenjirou heartwarmingly confessed to Katsuki that he’d dedicated the triple axels in his free program to him, during an interview.**

> [A gif of Yuuri, with a horrified look on his face, looking desperately between Morooka, the camera crew, and Minami.]

**2\. When Viktor Nikiforov, Katsuki’s skating idol, remembered him from the Grand Prix Final and asked why he didn’t skate at the Four Continents.**  

> [Yuuri with a frozen smile on his face, staring blankly over Viktor’s shoulder.]

**3\. When Phichit Chulanont jumped into his arms while he helplessly tried to complete their interview.**  

> [A clip of Phichit jumping into Yuuri’s arms, looped three times successively in slower and slower motion while it zooms in on Yuuri’s horrified face. ‘Mmm Whatcha Say’ plays in the background.]

**4\. When Christophe Giacometti groped him once the TV Asahi’s cameras stopped rolling, but it was caught by Russian television anyway.**  

> [A gif of Yuuri smiling at Chris, before screaming in shock as Chris reaches behind him, looking immediately at his own camera crew and slumping in relief, and then double-taking at the Russian camera crew with a look of dawning horror.]

**5\. All of Minami Kenjirou’s screaming on Twitter over the course of the competition.**

> [A gif of Yuuri awkwardly patting Minami’s head. Minami looks like Christmas came early and gave him everything he could have wanted in life, and also like he's about to cry. Yuuri looks confused and victimized.]

**6\. When Viktor Nikiforov noticed Katsuki watching him after his short program.**  

> [Viktor smiling brilliantly at Yuuri with the force of ten thousand excited suns. Yuuri looking inexplicably horrified, with his hands over his face.]

**7\. When Minami Kenjirou ridiculously tried to land two triple axels in a row during the exhibition practice, fell, and then screamed Katsuki’s name.**  

> [Minami falling. Cut to a shot of the crowd, zooming in as Yuuri looks up from his notes, spots Minami, and then raises his notes to cover his face.]

**8\. When Phichit Chulanont responded to the challenge by trying to land two triple axels, fell as well, and then screamed Katsuki’s name.**  

> [Phichit falling. Cut to Yuuri peering over his notes in horror.]

**9\. When Viktor Nikiforov tried to land two triple axels in a row,** **_landed it_ ** **, and then screamed Katsuki’s name — and blew a kiss.**

> [Yuuri attempting to hide under the table. Morooka pulls him up by the back of his shirt, laughing.]

**10\. When Christophe Giacometti added a quad lutz for good measure.**  

> [Chris blowing a kiss. Cut to Yuuri with his head in his arms.]

**11\. When Phichit Chulanont uploaded this heartwarming group photo at the banquet, with Katsuki included.**  

> **phichit+chu  
>  ** [Group photo with Leo, Guang Hong, Chris, and Sara — Yuuri is smiling a slightly awkward camera smile.]
> 
> Liked by **v-nikiforov, +guanghongji+,** and **348 others  
>  ** The group’s still complete! <3 @katsuki-yuri #bestie #helsinki #skating #gala

**12\. When Phichit Chulanont and Katsuki danced together during the banquet, and were caught on video.**

> [Phichit dancing enthusiastically, eyes closed. Yuuri dancing reluctantly while glaring at the person taking the video.]

**13\. When Viktor Nikiforov uploaded this picture of the two having an unexpectedly friendly breakfast before their flights.**  

> **v-nikiforov  
>  ** [A selfie of Yuuri and Viktor together, pressed cheek-to-cheek at the airport’s Starbucks. Yuuri is smiling with a soft look in his eyes, and Viktor’s laughing.]
> 
> Liked by **christophe-gc, phichit+chu,** and **679 others  
>  ** can’t wait to see you at WTT, love #worldteamtrophy #tokyo #skating
> 
> **View all comments…  
>  ** **phichit+chu** hey. hEY WAIT A SEC.  
>  **phichit+chu** KATSUKI YUURI!!!!

 

 

 

_You have reached the voice mailbox of Katsuki Yuuri. He’s not around right now, so please leave a message after the tone, or call back later. Sorry about that!_

_BEEP._

“Katsuki-kun, this is Morooka. I forgot to tell you this before you left the airport, but the higher-ups seem really keen on signing a contract with you! They want to have you work with us long-term once you’re done with your trial period. You don’t have to give a response until after the season ends, but please do take the time to think about the offer in the meantime. I hope your visit home is going well. See you at the World Team Trophy!”

_BEEP._

 

 


	3. sarabande

_“Kanpai!”_

The glasses clink overhead, and Yuuri obligingly takes a sip of his _sake._ His sister immediately pulls him into a side hug, which quickly turns into her ruffling his hair, which he struggles futilely against until she lets him go of her own accord. His sister is actually a lot stronger than people give her credit for, and she’s used that to terrorize him for years. Across the table from him, his mother is beaming proudly at him.

“Congratulations, Yuuri!” Takeshi bellows, and Yuuko leans back to let him bump his fist affectionately against Yuuri’s arm, “I didn’t think you’d bounce back so fast after retiring, but here you are, with a stable job at a good company— and so quickly too!”

“It’s only been a few months,” Yuuko agrees, “Yuuri-kun is really something else!”

“Ah,” Yuuri says weakly, “It’s not confirmed that I have a job yet—”

“Oh, look at our Yuuri being so humble,” Minako reaches over to pinch him lightly, “They would be lucky to have you, and they know it. That’s why they’re snatching you up so eagerly!”

She reaches for the remote and turns the volume louder.

“Ahh, Minako-sensei,” Yuuri complains, squirming in embarrassment.

He winces and hides his face as his own voice blasts from the speakers. There’s a replay of the World Championship playing on the television now, but on the recording, he just sounds—

“Is that really what I sound like?” Yuuri whines, and then hides his face in his arms again.

His phone pings beside him.

“Oh!” he says, and snatches it up.

**  
Hope you landed home safe! <3 <3 <3**

  
He can’t help but smile.

 **  
we landed safely  
** **i’m home now  
** **how was your flight?**

   
“Our Yuuri has been smiling at his phone all night!” Mari says wickedly, “Who is it?”

“No one!” Yuuri yelps.

His phone pings again.

“No one!” Mari says mockingly.

“Mari- _nee!”_ he complains, aware that they sound like a pair of squabbling children, before he turns his back on her to check his phone.

 **  
Delayed! As usual!  
** **Yakov always insists on Aeroflot  
** **But Aeroflot is always late!  
  
**

“Oh, Mari,” his mother sighs, “Stop teasing your brother. He’s clearly found himself a girlfriend!”

 _“Kaa-san!”_ Yuuri wails.

“Or maybe a boyfriend?”

Yuuri squishes his face against his knees, and continues typing stubbornly.

 **  
are you still at the airport?  
** **it’s been hours!  
  
**

“A boyfriend,” his father says to his mother, nodding sagely.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Yuuri says loudly.

“But look at you smiling!” Yuuko teases, “I haven’t seen you smiling like that since—”

She stops suddenly. Yuuri is vaguely aware that she must be recalling his long silence after he’d come home from Nationals, a cast around his ankle, and a deadness in his eyes. He knows he’d worried all of them for those dark few months, but even the memory of that can’t lower his spirits today.

His phone pings again. 

 **  
No we landed a few hours ago  
** **I took a cab home**

**did you sleep on the plane?**

**Not at all!  
** **When we fly with Yakov it’s alway Economy!  
** **Who can sleep in Economy?**

 **go to sleep viktor!!  
** **you haven’t slept in like  
** **almost 30 hours?**  

 **But  
** **I want to talk to you  
** **:(  
**  

Yuuri has to stop to hide his face for a moment. Yuuko reaches over to pat him on the shoulder, giggling. Mari is shaking her head.

“Ah,” his mother says, leaning her head on his father’s shoulder, “Young love. Don’t you remember when we were like that, Toshiya?”

Mari makes a face, and turns away.

 **  
goodnight viktor  
**  

Yuuri has to force himself to put down his phone.

He bites his lip, worrying at it for a moment, before he picks his phone back up.  
 

**< 3  
  
**

His phone pings almost immediately in his hand.

 **  
<3 <3 <3 !!!!!!** 

  
It brings a smile to his face, but he _really_ has to force himself to put his phone down after that, and pay attention to his family. Viktor _should_ be going to sleep instead of texting Yuuri anyway.

Minako sighs quietly.

Yuuri turns to look at her with a puzzled expression. She’s staring at the television still, with her cheek in one hand, and her bottle in the other. There’s a complicated look on her face, and Yuuri registers that she’s been a little more reserved all night than he’s used to. He’s used to her pouncing on him and making all her opinions known, but this is—

“Minako-sensei,” he says quietly, because he gets the feeling she’s deliberately trying not to let her mood show, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says immediately.

He just waits patiently. If he knows one thing about Minako, it’s that she can rarely keep her opinions to herself once prompted. She seems to guess his thoughts, because she narrows her eyes at him, and then sighs again.

“It’s just,” she begins huffily, “When you first said you were retiring, I almost couldn’t quite believe it! There always seemed to be something bigger in store for you. Someone as talented as my Yuuri _—_ it just didn’t feel like your story was over yet, like it _could_ be over yet. There had to be something bigger waiting just up ahead.”

She sighs again.

“You deserved better,” she grumbles.

Something clenches within him, responding to her words, and his eyes get a little wet. He blinks rapidly, a little bewildered at his sudden emotionality, but masters himself quickly enough to butt his head gently against Minako’s shoulder. She raises her arm, draping it around him so that he can rest his head against her collarbone.

“You always had the most faith in me, Minako-sensei,” he mumbles, “Thank you.”

“Oh, Yuuri,” she says, and kisses his forehead, “My dear, precious Yuuri.”

He leans his head against her, the both of them staring silently ahead at the television, where a boy that Yuuri doesn’t recognize is skating a very average program.

Behind them, the rest of their small party is engaged in a quiet conversation about something or another. His mother is nodding off against his father’s shoulder, ever the early sleeper, and Mari has disappeared, likely gone outside for a smoke.

“Ah,” Minako says quietly, “Look, Yuuri, your favorite’s about to start.”

Yuuri looks back to the television.

Viktor is skating to the center of the rink. There’s a tender look on his face, a look that Yuuri had been unable to meet at the time, confused of Viktor’s intentions, but that he now absorbs with a strange wonderment, a quiet hope.

“His interpretation changed very drastically since the GPF, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says.

They watch as he begins his free skate, the rising tones of the aria too quiet to be properly heard—

— but still, Yuuri hears the music.

But still, Yuuri recalls — the magnetism of that performance, the way it had threatened to pull him to his feet with the emotionality of it.

He closes his eyes, and there’s a symphony rising steadily inside him, crying to get free. He closes his eyes and he can see it still, those tender movements singing achingly through his body, the song rising surely in his heart.

His story hasn’t ended, his heart cries out.

His eyes fly back open in shock.

 _But it has,_ he tells himself firmly, _it has._

 

 

 

Still, he finds himself at the rink relentlessly. Without the frenzied rush of commentating, the restlessness settles upon him, the music singing to life within him once more. He can’t escape its call, can’t resist it, and he finds himself skating for hours and hours, on and on. His body births the music burning inside him, brings it to life and makes it real. The ice is silent and cold, but he can hear the orchestra still, can feel it in his bones.

He dances his heart out, dances like a man gone mad, but sometimes it still isn’t enough.

His story hasn’t ended, his heart cries out.

 _But it has_ , he knows, _it has._

 

 

 

**Thinking of you <3**

  
The text comes one day without prompt.

 **  
I can’t wait to see you again  
** **WTT at Tokyo?  
  
**

Yuuri smiles.

**  
yes  
  
**

He finds peace after that in familiar movements, in a choreography he’s a little shy to claim, but that brings him endless joy and tenderness.

This will be my last song, he thinks, and there’s almost peace inside him at that thought.

 

 

 

**Ex-Japan Ace Katsuki Yuuri: From Olympic Darling to TV Commentator**

TOKYO — Early this year, men’s singles figure skater Katsuki Yuuri sent shockwaves through the community when he tragically announced his retirement from competitive figure skating. Katsuki had been the unchallenged Japanese skating champion for years, and a long-time favorite for the Winter Olympics team. When he made it into the Grand Prix Final late last year, Japan was certain that she would finally see one of her own skaters on the podium once more.

But that dream was not meant to be. During the Grand Prix Final, Katsuki placed a very respectable third in the short program, but went on to implode so spectacularly during the free program that it dragged him from a respectable bronze, to dead-last. Fans were disappointed, but also eager to see Katsuki make a comeback at the Nationals, the arena which he’d dominated since his junior days and would doubtlessly continue to dominate.

Instead, [ another catastrophic free ](https://youtu.be/3hl2GGQBZEI?t=31s) cost Katsuki his throne — and also his leg. A disastrous fall mid-program had left him staggering off the ice. Although injured, he’d expressed his intentions to continue his program, and had been allowed to resume his program from where he’d stopped with a five point deduction. He had proceeded to fall, painfully, on every jump after that. By the end, not only had he been in eleventh place, he’d also had to be helped off the ice by a competitor, inconsolable. It had been one of the most difficult competitions to watch.

The incident left fans with endless questions. What would Katsuki do after that? How would Katsuki make his comeback now that he’d been excluded from the rest of the season’s events by his poor performance at Nationals? Most of all, what was the severity of Katsuki’s injury? How long would he take to recover?

In February, the answer to those questions came.

Katsuki would not be making a comeback.

In a statement to TV Asahi in February, Katsuki announced that he had broken it off with his coach, Cialdini Celestino, and would be retiring due to injury. The news devastated fans all over Japan. At fifteen, Katsuki had won the hearts of fans with his [ beautifully emotive free program at the Winter Olympics ](https://youtu.be/ke0iusvydl8?t=46s), where he'd competed in the team event alongside skating giants Daisuke Takahashi and Nobunari Oda, and become the youngest ever figure skater to win an Olympic Gold. He went on to win the title of Junior World Champion in his following season, which skyrocketed expectations for his senior debut.

However, Katsuki’s senior record has been disappointingly so-so in comparison to his early glory. His senior programs have been plagued with many falls and much nervous energy, and none so much as his performances at the Grand Prix Final and Japanese Nationals last year. Yet, fans had held out hope for him to overcome himself and regain the glory he’d had at the Winter Olympics, had held out hope to see another program as emotive and soul-wrenchingly beautiful as that one performance at the Olympics.

Two months ago, Katsuki sent shockwaves through the community once more. As coverage of the Four Continents was screened over TV Asahi, fans were shocked to hear Katsuki join in as a co-commentator to Hisashi Morooka, who had always commentated alone. News got out quickly, and by the next day, TV Asahi’s viewer count had shot up by a staggering 3 million. He then went on to commentate on ground at the World Figure Skating Championships at Helsinki, and is rumored to be appearing at the World Team Trophy in April too.

Response to his commentating has generally been positive. While some fans still wish for his eventual return to the ice, many have wished him well on his career outside of competitive figure skating. His commentary has generally been praised as competent and insightful, with insider knowledge and connections that have proven useful in scoring interviews with international skaters. Definitely, by the skyrocketing viewer count alone, we can say that his debut as a commentator has been successful.

Personally, I will be sorry to see Katsuki go. Even thinking of the Winter Olympics now, almost ten years later, I still remember it by his program, the lonely boy in the red jacket, glancing backward over his shoulder. The sheer musicality and poignancy of that one performance is nothing I’ve seen in any skater since. Still, I wish Katsuki all the luck he needs in his future. With a single program, he won the hearts of a nation for years to come. Only time will tell if his lasting popularity as a skater will continue onto his career as a commentator.

16 April 2017

 

 

 

By the time the cheery call comes from Morooka, reminding him to return to Tokyo, he’s perfected it as much as he thinks he ever will with his current capabilities — his last song.

Yuuko perks as he jogs over to the counter, panting slightly from his run from Yuutopia. She’s writing in a book, that he realises upon second glance is Ice Castle’s accounts, the wooden end of the pencil she’s holding looking very nibbled at. He can help the fondness spreading in his chest. She’d always done that with her pencils while doing her schoolwork too.

“Yuuri-kun,” she says warmly, and grins, “I thought you would be packing for the World Team Trophy, but you’re here again? You practice more than most competitive skaters.”

He chuckles along with her.

“There’s—” he begins shyly, “Something I wanted to show you— In memory of the old days.”

Yuuko just blinks, and then smiles.

 

 

 

In the middle of the rink, he closes his eyes, and a symphony rises within him.

 

 

 

When he is finished, Yuuko just stares.

“Oh my god,” she starts in an awed whisper, her voice raising steadily in volume as her excitement mounts, “That was— that was _just like Viktor’s, oh my god! Yuuri, that was so super cool!”_

Yuuri just laughs abashedly.

“It was just something I thought I’d do for myself,” he says, “I got tired of being restless and moody, and it gave me peace.”

Yuuko seems to sober a little then.

“You flipped the quad flip out for a triple,” she says, “But with a performance like that— Yuuri, not many retirees train hard enough in their retirement to land any quads. You could— you could win an international gold with a performance like that.”

Yuuri is shaking his head already, but she puts one hand on his arm.

“Your story isn’t over,” she says.

“It is,” Yuuri says, and then bites his lip, _“My ankle.”_

Yuuko just looks confused.

“You skated Viktor’s program perfectly without any trouble,” she says, “What’s wrong?”

“The pain comes and goes,” he explains, “Sometimes it’s fine, and then a second later it’s a problem again. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“What did the doctor say?” Yuuko asks, brow creasing in concern.

Yuuri shrugs helplessly, feeling like he’s telling this hopeless tale again for the millionth time.

“I went back to the doctor when the pain stayed after the supposed recovery period, but he couldn’t tell what was wrong with it.”

Yuuko frowns for a moment.

“But— _is_ there something wrong with it?” she asks.

The question confuses Yuuri.

“Yes?” Yuuri says, confused, “The pain comes and goes.”

The triplets make an appearance soon after that with a litany of questions for Yuuri, and the conversation gets shelved, by silent agreement, for when Yuuri next comes back. He bends down to pat their heads and answer their endless questions, patient and fond, and is helplessly forced to agree to teach them quadruples when they are older.

The very next morning, he gets on the train to Tokyo.

 

 

 

[A shaky video taken from behind a rink wall. In the silence of an empty rink, a young man skates to Stammi Vicino.]

 **Katsuki Yuuri Tries to Skate Viktor Nikiforov’s Program [Stammi Vicino]  
** 3,235,930 views

878 Comments

 **ohyuurimyyuuri  
** YUURI IS BACK OH MY GOD I KNEW IT COULDN’T BE OVER FOR HIM I KNEW IT

 **GoldSkateFan  
** Damn boy, if he’d skated like that at the GPF, he definitely would have won silver for sure. 

> Hide replies...
> 
> **littlekatsudon  
>  ** depending on viktor’s pcs scores, he could even potentially edge viktor out for a gold with a skate like that
> 
> **GoldSkateFan  
>  ** Okay, I kind of hate to agree with you, but you have a point. That said, it would take Viktor on a particularly bad day for him to successfully edge Viktor out.

**becca  
** his story isn’t over

 **MinamisLoveForYuuri  
** I just want to know if Minami Kenjirou has seen this yet, and if he has, whether he’s still alive.

 

 

  
  
**Katsuki Yuri FC** _@official-kyuri-fanclub_ _. 3h  
_ you guys have to see this!   

> **Youtube: Katsuki Yuuri Tries to Skate Viktor Nikiforov’s Program [Stammi Vicino]  
>  ** [A shaky video taken from behind a rink wall. A young man skates to Stammi Vicino.]

**Minami Kenjirou** _@minami-kenjirou_ _. 2h  
_ やったあああああああああああああああああああああああああああああああああああああ！ 

> **Katsuki Yuri FC** _@official-kyuri-fanclub  
>  _ you guys have to see this!  
>  **Youtube: Katsuki Yuuri Tries to Skate Vi...**

**CBC Sports** _@cbcsports_ _. 1h  
_ A video has gone viral of retired skater, @katsuki-yuri, skating @v-nikiforov’s world record-breaking free skate, Stay Close to Me. _youtu.be/DtEXNnq?BPe_

 **Daily Mirror** _@DailyMirror_ _. 1h  
_ _“Retired” Japanese star skater, Yuri Katsuki, reveals result of months of SECRET practice!_ _mirror.co.uk/sports/skating…_

 **Bee Katsuki** _@oh-yuri-my-yuri_ _. 30m  
_ @official-kyuri-fanclub woah okay idk if you’ve seen it yet, but the japanese skating fandom is going NUTS. it’s crazy. they’re all screaming that yuuri’s making a comeback. has he actually said he’s coming out of retirement?

 **Katsuki Yuri FC** _@official-kyuri-fanclub_ _. 20m  
_ _@oh-yuri-my-yuri_ no he hasn’t said anything. i honestly suspect he hasn’t seen the video yet.

 **Little Katsudon** _@little-katsu . 10m  
_ _@official-kyuri-fanclub @oh-yuri-my-yuri_ holy shit guys the japanese fans are fREAKING OUT. it’s an early celebration on their end. they’re gonna be crushed if yuuri doesn’t come back.

 **Bee Katsuki** _@oh-yuri-my-yuri_ _. 5m  
_ _@official-kyuri-fanclub @little-katsu_ he’s kinda a national treasure over there. like, i really doubt us international fans can understand just how much he means to them.

 **Katsuki Yuri FC** _@official-kyuri-fanclub_ _. 2m  
_ _@oh-yuri-my-yuri @little-katsu_ the saddest part is i think their expectations are what wrecked him after his senior debut. he just hasn’t been the same since that huge media storm following the winter olympics. i just hope he’s okay now.

 

 

  
  
There's a storm of reporters outside the hotel that they are staying at for the World Team Trophy, the same one all the skaters will be staying at. Yuuri makes to walk past them, knowing they are here for the competing skaters, only to hear— to his absolute shock, a familiar cry of: _“Katsuki-senshu!”_

And that one shout just sets off the rest.

All of a sudden the whole swarm of them are upon him, and he can only take a step back, completely and utterly stunned.

_“Katsuki-senshu, could you just say if—”_

_“Katsuki-senshu, can you look over here—”_

_“Katsuki-senshu, can you comment on—”_

“I don't—” he stutters.

 _“Katsuki-senshu—”_ a young man screams from the back of the mob, _“Katsuki-senshu, are you really coming out of retirement!”_

He can't— even process it all.

“No comment,” he just says, and begins to fight his way through the crowd, “No comment— I don't— please stop, I'm— I’m just a commentator— please— let me through— _no comment!”_

Once he manage to get through the doors into the hotel lobby, most of the reporters stop at the doors. He makes a beeline for the front counter, even as a smaller group of more determined reporters continue to trail him, still asking questions. They hang back as he checks in at the counter, cowed by the looks they are receiving by the concierge staff, but start to clamor again once he receives his key card and begins heading for the lifts.

Bewildered, Yuuri starts walking a little faster. They do not follow him into the lift, _thankfully._ The moment the doors close, Yuuri slumps back against a wall, putting his face in his hands. What happened? Why are they suddenly hounding him again? Come out of retirement? What on Earth gave them that idea?

After he’s gotten safely into his hotel room, he tiredly fishes his phone out of his pocket and turns it on. He'd turned it off while on the train to Tokyo, so that he could read up on all the competing skaters without interruption or distraction. Once his phone starts up, it begins to ping again and again with a bewildering amount of notifications. A moment later, it lights up with an incoming call.

It's Morooka.

“Katsuki-kun!” he cries, the moment Yuuri picks up, “I just checked the news. Are you okay?”

“I don't,” Yuuri begins dazedly, “I don't understand why this is happening?”

There's a pause.

“Katsuki-kun,” Morooka says slowly, “Have you not seen the video yet?”

“The video?” Yuuri asks.

There's another pause, amidst the sounds of shuffling, and then his phone buzzes with a ping.

“I've sent you the link,” Morooka says, “It’s gone viral and now everyone thinks you're coming out of retirement.”

Yuuri frowns, completely bewildered.

“Thanks?” he says, “I’ll go take a look and then try to figure out what to do next.”

“See you tomorrow,” Morooka says, “And Katsuki-kun... don't stress out too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

Yuuri hangs up, and goes to open the link. It's a YouTube link, and once the title has loaded up, he almost drops his phone in shock. _Katsuki Yuuri Tries to Skate Viktor’s Program [Stay Close to Me]_

But how?

He notices then that he has eight missed calls from Yuuko and Takeshi, and a message fromYuuko. There's also a newer message from Minako, but when he opens it it's just a tearful rant about how she's always believed in him, how he'd always had the capability, also shame on him for hiding all this from them— it goes on further but Yuuri just closes it for now, overwhelmed, and opens Yuuko’s message.

 **  
i’m so sorry yuuri!  
** **my kids secretly videoed you while you were skating  
** **they've uploaded the video and it's gone viral  
** **i’m really so sorry  
** **hope everything's alright on your end  
**  

His phone pings, again and again, with people relentlessly mentioning him or tagging him in social media posts. He gets three WhatsApp messages from Phichit in quick succession, before he decides he’s had enough and fumbles to turn his phone off. He even takes the battery out for good measure, and leaves it and his phone in the drawer by the bed. Then, he sits on the bed and puts his face in his hands.

What is he going to do now?

 

 

 

The crowd waiting outside the arena the next day is an absolute nightmare. At Worlds, it had been just as bad, but no one had been pestering him then. Here, however, the full force of the mob has turned on him.

_“Are you coming out of retirement, Katsuki-senshu?!”_

_“Will you be returning the next season, Katsuki-senshu?!”_

_“Have you been training under a new coach, Katsuki-senshu?!”_

“I will not be returning to competitive figure skating,” Yuuri shouts over the din, and hopes that will silence the mob.

It does not.

Instead, it just riles the crowd up further. He feels vaguely as one must feel after accidentally destroying a hornet’s nest. The mob begins to buzz louder and faster in agitation at his announcement and, horrified, he closes his eyes and tries to fight his way through the screaming crowd.

_“With a skate like that, you have a base technical score of—”_

_“If you return, you could easily—”_

_“Katsuki-senshu, you've clearly been training—”_

_“Why aren't you returning?”_ someone screams from the back, voice emotional, _“Katsuki-senshu, it's not over for you yet! It's not over!”_

Yuuri just can't deal with it all.

Once they've made it through the crowd and into the arena, it gets slightly better. Some of the other reporters look up at his entry, and some of them even look a little curious, as if they want to ask him some questions of their own — but they all refrain in respect of his role as a commentator. Relieved at the respite, Yuuri drags Morooka and their cameraperson someplace quieter to watch the short program in peace. Morooka just shoots him a sympathetic look as he slumps back in his seat, dragging a forearm over his eyes.

But the peace does not last long. They obligingly head down after the Japanese male singles skaters leave the ice, and find them talking to the rest of the Japanese team in the press zone.

“Hello!” Morooka greets, “How are all of you feeling about the competition so far?”

There’s a moment of silence, most of the team eying Yuuri with something uncomfortably resembling awe, before one of the female skaters steps forward, clearing her throat.

“In the past, we haven’t needed to work as hard as we will this year,” she says, “We could relax a little with Katsuki-san on the team before now, but this year, Japan almost didn’t qualify for the World Team Trophy. That’s why...”

She trails off, biting her lip as she glances unsurely up at Yuuri, and then averts her eyes quickly. Another awkward silence ensues, until Minami jumps up, a determined look on his face.

“Are you coming back to skating, Yuuri-kun?” he asks loudly.

Yuuri winces as his loud question draws the curious attention of some of the other skaters and press members. One of the ice dancers slaps a hand over Minami’s mouth, looking horrified.

“Sorry about Kenjirou-kun,” the other male singles skater apologises profusely, bowing, “He gets too excited sometimes.”

“But— but are you returning?”

The girl who’d asked the question looks very young, probably only fifteen. Her eyes are wide and brown, and she’s clutching at the ruffles over her chest, going a little red under his attention. Minami jumps up again, somehow managing to escape the clutches of the ice dancer.

“Yuuri-kun! In our hearts, your place is still with us!” he continues, with characteristic enthusiasm and volume that, while endearing, just makes Yuuri wince again in this situation, “When I saw your video I knew that—”

Yuuri watches helplessly as the ice dancer drags him back again.

The young female skater steps forward stubbornly.

“I started skating competitively after watching your program at the Olympics,” she tells him, tilting her chin up, but her bottom lip is wobbling with nerves.

“The skating world lost something bright when you retired,” a familiar voice says, somewhere close to him. He looks up to see Leo coming towards him with his coach. Beside him, another familiar face.

“Yuuri, it’s not over for you yet,” Guang Hong urges, “You’re the closest out of all of us to an international gold, I just know it!”

“Yuuri!” someone else calls, and Yuuri just—

He can’t—

“Yuuri!”

“I’m not returning,” he says helplessly, but the sound is swallowed up in the chaos, “I don’t have a coach— my ankle—”

He closes his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed, but a loud shout has him looking up.

 _“Hey!”_ It’s— it’s the Russian Yuri, the one who’d screamed at him to retire at the GPF, who’s now flushed pink and scowling as he marches towards Yuuri from the rink area— “What did you think you were doing with that video?”

He leans up into Yuuri’s face.

_“And how dare you retire before I could smash you in the senior circuit?”_

He'd literally _told_ Yuuri to retire before his senior debut! Yuuri looks away helplessly, and freezes. Behind the Russian Yuri, he can see Yakov Feltsman hurrying into the press zone after his student, already beginning to yell in rapid-fire Russian, and behind him—

Their eyes meet over the crowd, Viktor pale and with an almost stricken look on his face. The cacophony of overlapping voices have grown too loud for Yuuri to hear it, but Yuuri can see his mouth shape the words almost in slow-motion.

_“Yuuri.”_

He turns around, and _flees._

Morooka doesn’t try to stop him. He takes a door at random, which brings him into one of the back areas of the arena, an empty corridor probably meant for cleaning and maintenance staff only. The crash of his footsteps echoes loudly through the corridor, until he comes to another door. He yanks that door open as well and finds himself in another hallway. He starts running in a random direction, until finally, he’s panting too hard to continue. He has to slow to an awkward, limping hobble as his ankle begins to throb from the exertion.

At that point, the anxious tears begin to spill over. The white corridors glow too brightly in his vision, dizzying and overwhelming, and he slides slowly down with his back against a wall. With a final sob, he puts his face in his knees and lets the tears come.

 _Breathe, Yuuri,_ he tells himself through the hiccuping gasps, _Breathe._

He sits there, curled up and sniffling miserably into his knees, until he feels a careful hand on his shoulder. He looks up.

It’s Viktor.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispers, and leans his forehead against Yuuri’s.

“Viktor,” Yuuri sobs.

Viktor kisses him once on the cheek, chaste, and then draws back.

“I’ll be your coach,” he says, eyes pleading, “If you come back, I’ll be your coach.”

That’s not what Yuuri needs to hear. Frustrated, he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“I’m not _planning_ on returning, Viktor,” he moans.

 _“Yuuri,”_ Viktor says again, and Yuuri stands up, puts a few steps of distance between them.

“Tell me you're not thinking, even a little bit, of returning,” Viktor calls after him, “Because no one who's planning on staying away trains hard enough to skate a program like Stammi Vicino. No one who's planning on staying away bothers to train new quads like you do. So tell me. Tell me you’re not thinking at all about skating again.”

Yuuri wraps his arms around himself and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know what to say to that, because it’s at least partly true, isn’t it? There’s a part of him that still calls for the ice. There’s a song in him that hasn’t ended, that still compels him to keep on returning time after time. He’s been training as hard as he had while he’d been competitive, learning new quads and keeping his body in competitive shape, something in him still unable to let go. He might not intend on returning, but his heart refuses to let that be so.

“Can you blame me?” he whispers instead, “You of all people should know how difficult it is to let go.”

Viktor steps forward, reaching out to hold him gently from behind.

“Oh, but you don't have to, Yuuri,” he whispers pleadingly, “You could _come back.”_

“But my ankle—” Yuuri begins, and then screws his eyes shut. He pushes Viktor’s arms off him, and hobbles a few steps away in demonstration, before turning to look Viktor fiercely in the eye.

“Look at me,” he says hoarsely, _“Look at me._ I can’t even _walk._ How am I supposed to— _”_

He puts his hands in his face with a dry sob.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says gently, “You were able to train and skate Stammi Vicino perfectly fine.”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he says, “It comes and goes. I don’t understand it. The doctor doesn’t understand it. No one does. It’s better not to risk it.”

“Have you ever considered,” Viktor says, “That it might not be your ankle that’s holding you back, that maybe it's _you_ that's holding you back?

Yuuri can't help the confused hurt rising swiftly up into him, can't help as the hurt and confusion turns just as quickly into anger.

“Do you think I'm _lying_ about it?”

Viktor seems to sense his ire because he's holding his hands up now, eyes wide, backtracking.

“No,” he's saying, “I didn't mean—”

“I just don’t understand you, Viktor Nikiforov,” Yuuri bites out, “Is this a game to you? See how far you can wind up your poor little ex-competitor? Pick me up like an abandoned stray for a good time and some amusement— after all, it’s not like I’m important enough that anyone will mind what you do to me anyway?”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, looking horrified, “You don’t think that.”

“Don’t tell me what I think,” Yuuri snaps.

“I thought we had a connection,” Viktor whispers, hurt.

And that really does make Yuuri hurt too. Yuuri has to close his eyes for a moment to escape the sheer misery that’s on Viktor’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says, “I’m upset. I need some time to think. I have to go back and finish my job here. I just—”

“Go then,” Viktor says, shrugging, “You need to find your co-commentator, don’t you?”

Yuuri hesitates as Viktor turns away. Something in the forlorn slope of his back, arms wrapped around himself and his gaze directed downwards, pleads desperately: _stay._ But it's too much. It's too much, and Yuuri’s always been weak. Yuuri’s always been a coward.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says again, turning away.

The look on Viktor’s face, tilted down and shadowed by his fringe as Yuuri leaves through the door, makes him feel more like a coward than he's ever felt. Still, he closes his eyes, grits his teeth, and tears his eyes away, yanking the door closed behind him.

 

 

  
  
[A live stream of the World Team Trophy footage. In the background, there is commentary by Morooka and Yuuri.]

 **ISU World Team Trophy 2017 Tokyo w/ commentary by Katsuki Yuuri [LIVE]  
** 845,463 views

38 Comments

 **sTammyVicino  
** Where on earth did Katsuki disappear to for that first forty-five minutes after the short program?

 **littlekatsudon  
** oh no. he sounds terrible.

 **ohyuurimyyuuri  
** he’s definitely freaking out 

> Hide replies...
> 
> **GoldSkateFan  
>  ** What happened? Is he okay?
> 
> **ohyuurimyyuuri  
>  ** some footage of him skating stay close to me went viral
> 
> **GoldSkateFan  
>  ** I saw. It was an amazing skate though. What’s wrong?
> 
> **ohyuurimyyuuri  
>  ** everyone kind of took it as a sign that he’s coming out of retirement
> 
> **GoldSkateFan  
>  ** Oh no.

**MelNikiforov  
** yo guys, have you seen the paparazzi footage of him getting mobbed outside the arena? it’s bad. no wonder he doesn’t sound like his usual self today. 

> Hide replies...
> 
> **KatsukiYuuriFC  
>  ** someone I follow posted a link on tumblr. he looked so pale.
> 
> **sTammyVicino  
>  ** Yikes. I guess that’s probably why he disappeared after the short program.
> 
> **GoldSkateFan  
>  ** Kudos to him for coming back to finish the commentary though. I’ve always respected Katsuki, and especially so after watching him skate at Japanese Nationals. You don’t see that level of courage and tenacity in every skater.

**KatsukiYuuriFC  
** yuuri! ganba!!!

 

 

 

After the awards ceremony, a knock comes at his door as he's packing his suitcase. He gets up and opens the door a crack, relaxing once he sees that it's just Morooka, not anyone else. Morooka shuffles in the doorway for a moment, looking oddly guilty, before he pulls a manila envelope out of the file he's carrying, and presents it to Yuuri.

Curious, Yuuri pulls out the letter inside it, and gasps. It's—

“It's your contract,” Morooka says, “If you want the job, it’s yours. I know it’s got to be a really bad time for you now, with the media coming after you again, and your video going viral — but the department needs a reply by the end of the season, which is pretty much tomorrow.”

That's fine. Yuuri wants the job, doesn't he? Hadn't he and his family celebrated the very possibility of this moment? All he needs to do is to sign this — he has a pen lying on his desk a few steps away, it's not hard — and return it to Morooka. Just a few moments to read through the terms, and he can secure his future.

He continues to stare blankly at the contract in his hands.

Morooka just nods after a moment of silence, once it becomes clear Yuuri won’t be returning the contract immediately. He turns to leave the room.

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” he announces, “Whatever it is you choose to do, I support your decision.”

He closes the door behind him, and Yuuri immediately puts his face in his hands. What is he doing? What on earth is there to hesitate over? Is he really still grieving the loss of his impossible dream? Is he really still holding desperately to the possibility of skating again? Why? He’s done for now, with his ankle the way that it is. He’ll never skate competitively again.

Determined, he draws the chair out of the hotel room desk, sitting himself squarely in it. He pulls the contract out of its envelope and reads it carefully. The pay is good, the terms are excellent, and the company has readied an insurance and pension plan for him that will keep him in comfort for the rest of his life. It’s perfect. He will never have to worry about being able to support himself ever again.

He picks up his pen and sets it to paper, but there's a song inside him that hasn't ended, a vehement protest, a symphony rising now in mournful fervor—

He silences it ruthlessly, and puts his name down on the paper.

 

 

 

The next morning, he quietly approaches Morooka before the exhibition skate, and hands in his signed contract.

 

 

  
  
In the silence, his blades scratch against the ice. A song rises mournfully from within him, slow, heavy with a sense of defeat. Yuuri skates all alone in the empty rink, his face turned up to the heavens and his eyes closed, mist rising ethereal from the ice around him. There's a song within him that hasn't ended. It’s quieter now, subdued, but still it swells uncontainably beneath his skin. His heart sings its melody, and his body listens, moving across the ice in yearning answer.

Quiet applause.

He turns, cheeks wet, to see Viktor standing by the side of the rink.

“Can we talk?” he asks, and Yuuri quickly rubs the tears from his face, before skating closer. He's not sure how Viktor thought to look here, or how he managed to convince the elderly rink-owner to let him in.

“Shouldn't you be at the banquet?” Yuuri mumbles.

Viktor smiles a little, but his smile is a quick tremulous thing. He shrugs.

“I can be gone for half an hour,” he says, “I needed to talk to you.”

Yuuri sighs, and rubs tiredly at his face.

“So talk then.”

Viktor smiles a little wryly.

“I think that your ankle is not the real reason holding you back— and I don't mean that you're lying about it!” he interjects quickly as Yuuri opens his mouth, offended, “Let me ask you this: if your ankle were to be miraculously cured, right this instance, would you return to skating, happily, with no further thought?”

Yuuri opens his mouth again, and then pauses. Somewhere, somehow, there's something pushing back against the idea of it. He thinks of competing again, and there's nothing but the memory of a bright flash of pain, fear, and humiliation. He's scared. The anxiety builds up inside him at the mere idea of it. His ankle begins to throb.

“You know, I shot to fame very quickly after I made my senior debut,” Viktor confides, “Suddenly, I had all these sponsors clamoring for my attention, paparazzi following me night and day. Everyone suddenly knew who I was. It was overwhelming and frightening, and at the height of it, weeks after my sixteenth birthday, a group of thugs ambushed me outside my rink. I was struggling and shouting, and one of them broke my arm in the scuffle, before they bundled me into a car and drove off.”

“You must have been so scared,” Yuuri says, confused at the sudden change of topic, but sympathetic. Viktor laughs.

“I was,” he agrees, “I think those were the three most frightening hours of my life. I still remember the one man who broke my arm, pacing up and down, carrying a sledgehammer. _Stop crying,_ he was shouting, _or I’ll break both of your legs too._ He seemed like he was just waiting for an excuse to hurt me. He thought I was effeminate, and clearly thought I was disgusting for it. Luckily, they had no idea what they were doing. The police found us in three hours. _”_

Yuuri frowns. He vaguely remembers seeing news about it when he'd been a child. Back then, it had been difficult to find translations of Russian news, so he hadn't fully understood what had happened. It's a lot easier, now that he speaks English, to find English translations of Viktor’s interviews.

Viktor smiles at his upset expression, reaching out to curl his fingers over Yuuri’s on the rink wall between them.

“But I digress,” he says, “Afterwards, every time I tried to cross that threshold into the rink, the very spot where I had been ambushed, the fear would come back to me, and my arm, that had healed without a hitch, would start to hurt again.”

Oh, Yuuri thinks.

“I couldn't get into cars either. They reminded me of the kidnapping. Every time I got into a car, I’d remember what they did to me, and my arm would start to hurt. Whenever I saw a hammer of some kind, it would take me back to that man, pacing up and down. I was a wreck. I cried a lot. Do you see what I'm saying?”

“Yes,” Yuuri says.

“And what do you think?”

Yuuri closes his eyes.

“I don't know what to think,” he whispers.

Viktor sighs.

“I guess we’ll move on to the second thing then,” he continues, “Which is that— I'm not— I’m not _stringing you along, Yuuri.”_

He sounds genuinely upset about it, and Yuuri winces at the sound of it, as Viktor takes a shaky breath to calm himself.

“If anything, you're the one who's toying with me,” he bites out, and then digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I've been perfectly serious about you since Sochi, but then you— you never _called,_ not even a message, dropped right off the grid without a word, and when we met again, you wouldn't even look at me— and then we— and then now you're saying it didn't mean anything? I don't understand you, Yuuri.”

“Firstly, I didn’t say it didn't mean anything,” Yuuri snaps, and then shakes his head, confused, “Secondly, what— what do you mean _since Sochi?_ I don’t understand what that means.”

But he's remembering now, that ominous blank in time between entering the banquet hall and waking up in just his boxers with the hangover from hell. He'd assumed then that Celestino had dragged him back to his room once he'd started getting rowdy, but now he's not so certain.

From the betrayed look on Viktor’s face, _something_ must have happened then.

“What do you mean you don't understand?” he asks, “We had a connection. I'm not imagining this. We—”

He cuts himself off, and Yuuri skates a step closer, twining their fingers together imploringly.

“I’m sure,” he says, and licks his suddenly dry lips, “I’m sure we connected. You're not imagining it, but— but Viktor, I don't remember.”

Viktor pulls away from him, appalled, and takes a step back. There's a mix of emotions on his face now, hurt, disbelief, loss, confusion, anger. Yuuri steps forward, reaching for him pleadingly.

“Tell me what happened,” he pleads, “I was really drunk. I— I usually blank out when I’ve been drinking.”

But Viktor just turns from his embrace and puts his face in his heads, shaking his head slowly.

“I can't do this,” he whispers, distraught, and turns away, “If you really want to know, ask Chris about it. I just— I can't do this. I'm sorry. I can't do this.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri calls uselessly from the ice as he begins to walk away, “Viktor, _please.”_

“See you at the banquet,” Viktor says from the door, not even turning to look at him, and then closes the door behind him.

Yuuri puts his head in his hands.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

He just— he doesn’t understand. What Viktor said about his arm— Yuuri’s ankle, the implications of it— and then there's Sochi weighing heavy in his mind, a big empty space where the memory of something important should be. Viktor had accused him of not calling or messaging—

He slaps his hands to his pockets, and curses when he realises that he'd left his phone turned off in his hotel room.

He needs it right now.

 

 

 

His hands tremble as he scrolls down his contacts list, and he gasps when he finally finds it. He'd saved Viktor’s number when Viktor had texted him after Worlds, but this is an older contact. Viktor’s name is written in hiragana, like he'd been too drunk to think in English, and it’s misspelled. There’s— there’s a little heart next to it.

Fuck. He leans his head back against the headboard, clutching at his chest. _Fuck._ He needs to apologize to Viktor. He still doesn't know what happened, he still doesn't know—

Chris.

He picks his phone up and sends Chris a quick text.

They've been skating together since juniors. Chris won't ignore him.

He tosses his phone aside, and curls up, wrapping his arms around his knees. He looks back then, tries to remember all the times his ankle had troubled him, his state of mind in that moment. Suddenly, where it had seemed like it just came and went, he's beginning to see an unexpected pattern aligning. Fuck. He thinks about it, and he knows it's true.

It's not injury holding him back. When he thinks of competing again, he doesn’t think of his ankle first. When he thinks of competing, his mind gets stuck in the pain and anxiety of Japanese Nationals, the fear of letting everyone down, the humiliation and shame. It's not his ankle— it's _him_. He's scared. His ankle is just the convenient excuse, the convenient somatic pain that comes along when his mind sets into the memory of Nationals.

He swings his legs off the side of the bed and retrieves his laptop from his desk. He sits back against the headboard, biting his lip as it loads up the video he'd been avoiding for months— his free skate at the Japanese Nationals. He’d avoided watching it for too long, too humiliated, too ashamed, too frightened to hear what everyone doubtlessly had to say about his failure.

Perhaps this is the first step.

Right off the bat, the commentators begin talking excitedly in rapid-fire Japanese. It takes him a moment to process what they are saying. They are— talking about his skating history. It feels odd, to hear himself being talked about in this way, but this is precisely what he’s been doing over the last few months. The really uncomfortable bit is how optimistic they sound about him. They shut up as his music starts.

He watches himself skate, a troubled look on his face and his movements almost half-hearted, until that fateful fall. He winces as he sees his ankle twist and buckle. The commentators are making various sympathetic noises, which turn a little more worried when he doesn’t immediately get up.

Ah. He’s limping now. The commentators have noticed as well.

_“He looks like he’s in quite a bit of pain.”_

_“Ganba!”_ the female commentator cries, _“Yuuri-kun, ganba!”_

_“Is he going to continue?”_

Yuuri closes his eyes for a moment, unable to watch on as he gingerly skates one round around the ice, then staggers over to the line of judges, leaning over the rink wall to talk to the referee. The humiliation, the shame, the embarrassment of the moment hits him again. The crowd is muttering and he imagines having to wait, bored, while a silly boy who doesn’t know how to give up has his untimely moment of weakness. The commentators are tittering amongst themselves again, concerned.

_“Seems like he’s going to continue his program where he left off.”_

_“Okay, the deal is that he can continue the program after stopping for a break, but when he does, he continues with a five point deduction.”_

_“You can see he’s keeping his weight off his right ankle. I have a bad feeling about this.”_

He looks up in time to see the camera zooming in on the crowd. Two women are holding each other in the stands, hands over their mouths. They are— they are _crying_. Why are they crying? There’s a teenage boy standing on his seat, holding up a banner with Yuuri’s name on it and yelling something that the microphones don't catch. He'd always known somewhere deep down that he had fans, but he’d never truly been properly confronted of the reality of it. Most people carry the Japanese flag instead.

 _“Tears in the crowd,”_ one of the commentators say.

 _“Katsuki-kun has always been Japan’s pride,”_ the other responds, _“Really a national treasure, with the struggle he’s been through since he peaked at the Olympics.”_

 _“The performance that won over a nation,”_ the commentator says.

Yuuri digests that conversation with some bewilderment as the music starts again. The commentators fall silent as Yuuri resumes his program. There’s a pinched look on his face, and he’s not skating properly on one side. There’s a collective intake of breath from the commentators as he makes for his next jump— and falls.

_“That looked like it hurt.”_

_“But he’s getting up.”_

A combination spin, thankfully off his injured leg, then he visibly grits his teeth and launches into another jump— falls again. This time, he struggles a little getting up.

 _“Ganba, Yuuri-kun,”_ the female commentator is whispering, sounding like she’s holding back tears.

 _“That sheer tenacity is what I’ve always admired most about him,”_ her co-commentator says, just as quietly.

_“His performance at the Olympics was one thing, but it’s really his determination and dedication as an athlete that has you rooting for him even until now, hoping for him, praying you'll see the day he meets his own expectations.”_

He falls again on his next jump, and this time he stays on his hands and knees for a full five seconds. Yuuri has to avert his eyes as the camera zooms in on his face. Tears are dripping steadily from the tip of his nose. Finally, _finally_ , he pushes himself up to his feet again.

 _“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,”_ the crowd is chanting tearfully.

He’d been too absorbed in his own pain and shame to hear it then. Banners in the crowd are waving fiercely. The crowd rises to its feet as he falls again, screaming encouragement from the stands, screaming as he draws into his ending spin. The commentators call his name encouragingly as his program draws to a close, and he collapses to his knees on the ice. A younger competitor, the next to go, skates immediately out to him. The Yuuri in the video is sobbing inconsolably as the boy helps him to the kiss-and-cry, and the boy is crying just as hard.

The commentators speak up again as he curls over on himself in the kiss-and-cry.

 _“He may have finished eleventh,”_ the commentator whispers, _“But again, he’s won the love and respect of a nation.”_

 _Oh_ , Yuuri thinks.

He thinks of his family, of Minako, Yuuko, and Takeshi, standing behind him and never asking about the results of his training. He thinks of the elderly rink-owner, her kindness even though he’d already retired. He thinks of her words from so long ago.

_The people who love you — they won't stop loving you just because you haven't won anything, you know?_

He doesn’t understand it, but he has people who love him, support him, and feel for him even though he’s done nothing to earn their support. He hasn’t won any medals. He messes up his skates. He’s a wooden wreck during interviews. He reacts badly when he meets his fans, never knowing what to say. Still, they chant his name at competitions, and cry when he’s in pain. Still, they come to see him outside the arena when they can't get tickets, and call encouragingly to him as he passes by.

His phone pings beside him.

He has a message from Chris.

When he unlocks his phone, he sees that Chris has sent him an eight-minute long video, with no accompanying message or explanation whatsoever. Bewildered, taps on it to download, and watches the wheel slowly complete around it.

Once it’s done loading, it plays automatically.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

A female skater in an evening gown moves obligingly aside as he runs past her, peering over her shoulder at him with a mildly bewildered look. He calls as apology to her as he passes, nodding to a waiter as he opens a door for him, and then ducks through the doorway, only to find himself suddenly in the thick of the party.

“Ah, Katsuki-kun,” Morooka says, “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming at all.”

Yuuri doubles over, panting.

“About,” he pants, “My contract...”

“You’ve changed your mind?” Morooka guesses, tone perfectly conversational, and shrugs easily when Yuuri nods, “Okay. I’ll throw it in the shredder.”

Yuuri huffs again, and straightens to look at Morooka questioningly.

“What?” Morooka asks, “I’m your biggest fan, Katsuki-kun. I had a feeling since I saw that video of you skating Viktor’s program. I’m definitely not going to _stop_ you from returning to competitive figure skating.

Yuuri looks over his shoulder discreetly, just to make sure Minami isn’t going to pop up to dispute the biggest fan claim. Minami is all the way across the room, exclaiming over something on his phone with another male skater. Nearby, Leo and Guang Hong are standing over the snacks table, getting excited over the food with the young female Japanese skater. But where is Viktor?

“I need to find Viktor,” Yuuri says, “It’s really important.”

Morooka blinks, before turning to peer over the crowd.

“You're pretty late, so I think he might already be leaving— there!” he points, “He's heading for the exit with his coach.”

Yuuri leans up on his toes. Across the crowd, he sees a flash of silver hair.

“Excuse me,” he says to Morooka, and starts pushing his way through the crowd, “Excuse me. _Excuse me._ Excuse me!”

The crowd parts slowly for him with curious murmurs and concerned muttering, but it's not enough. As he looks up, over all their heads, he can see Viktor reaching the exit. He’s looking down, hair falling in his face, something inexplicably and achingly tired in his posture. Yuuri can't let him through that door. Yuuri can't let this be the end. Their story hasn't ended. _Their story is just beginning._

He cups his hands around his mouth.

_“Viktor!”_

For a dreadful moment, he almost thinks Viktor doesn't hear his call, because he keeps walking. Then, he stops, right in the doorway, and turns around slowly.

Their eyes meet over the crowd.

Yuuri cups his hands around his mouth again.

 _“Be my coach, Viktor!”_ he screams.

Viktor just stares at him for a moment, blue eyes widening.

Then, his whole body softens.

A smile washes over his face like a slow sunrise.

 

**End.**

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please do leave a comment so I know what you think. It's my first time writing so much in such a short span of time ^^; For those who have been following my other WIPs, I apologize for the long wait!! I took a break on writing for those to complete this fic, and I will now resume writing for my other WIPs.
> 
> Thanks again to my wonderful betas, the BBOI discord server, and my amazing pinch-hitters. Also, a very happy birthday to my SEAsian fam, Cat and Roa!
> 
> Art was done by:  
> [rikichie](https://rikichie.tumblr.com/), art [here](https://rikichie.tumblr.com/post/170680528587/this-is-my-first-piece-for-the-bigbangonice-for)  
> [NothingTea](http://nothingtea.tumblr.com/), art [here](http://nothingtea.tumblr.com/post/170680174348/he-may-have-finished-eleventh-the-commentator)  
> 


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